The Baker's Son
by LauraCharlotte
Summary: When sixteen-year-old Peeta Mellark is selected to compete in the Hunger Games, he doesn't go to save his own life, he goes to save another.
1. Infomation

In a dark vision of the near future, twelve boys and twelve girls are forced to appear in a live TV show called the Hunger Games.

There is only one rule: kill or be killed.

When sixteen-year-old Peeta Mellark is selected to compete in the games, he doesn't go to save his own life, he goes to save another.


	2. Chapter 1

Last night I forgot to close my curtains, so I am woken by the first rays of sun settling on District 12. The soft colour filters through the window, casting its light across my heavy eyelids until I am forced to open them. I ball my hands into fists and rub my eyes before stretching out. I had supposed that I was the only one awake in the house, until I hear footsteps down stairs. Assuming it's my father, I swing my legs out of my bed, pull on the pants I discarded on my bedroom floor the previous night, and try my best to leave my room quietly as possible. My brothers are still sleeping in the next room, and waking them at this early hour is suicide. Avoiding the step on the stairs that whines and groans if anyone steps foot on it, I glide down them to the bakery. There is my father, wearing his white, stained apron, hauling bags of flour across the room. He looks strong, but he struggles with these fifty-kilo weights since his is age is slowly catching up with him. Stiffening fingers and greying hair.

"Hey, dad, you need a hand?" I say to him whilst crossing the room, noting that despite the slow start today brings to District 12, he has still forced himself awake to open the bakery. I suppress a slight chuckle as he jerks up, I've startled him. He pushes back his hair and huffs in a moment of discontent before relaxing.

"Sorry, I didn't want to wake you." He sighs, and I see he looks almost forlorn as his eyes focus on the bag he has been hefting through the open back door, "Not everyday you're allowed a lie in." I watch him slump onto a stool and extend his arms in front of him, stretching his stiff limbs. I make my way towards the back door. It's chilly outside but the cold air is pleasant on my face, and I don't make any complaints about the cold stone under my bare feet. I walk down the steps, lift a bag of flour over my shoulder and return to the bakery.

"You deserve a lie in too, you know." I say to him. He is always up at the crack of dawn to open the bakery. I am not sure why, we rarely get any early customers. But in the back of my mind, I wonder whether he just likes the solitude. He doesn't reply, so I continue back and forth, bringing in the flour. I've been bringing in the flour for years, it's an easy task now, despite them being fifty-kilo's of heavy white flour.

Soon enough, my father is back on his feet, throwing ingredients together and kneading them into dough. After finishing with the bags, I clean the bakery cabinets. They seem to be already shining with care and well paid attention, but I simply need to find something to do until he calls me to come ice the cakes. Finally, I hear the familiar noise of the heavy tray being lifted from the oven, and rush to help my father as he removes a load of the mornings first baked goods. By the time I have waited for the cakes and cookies to cool, it is nearing the time when people will begin to stir. I do not rush myself though, when it comes to icing the cakes, I always take my time and exhaust my imagination. I am not limited with my choice of colours, and soon I've produced an array of cakes that resemble little purple and blue flowers.

The bell, announcing a customer entering the bakery, rings.

"Will you get that, Peeta?" My father calls from across the room, "I need to get this load in the oven." I look over my shoulder and see he's struggling to lift one tray of bread from the oven, before picking up a tray of dough to be cooked. I promise to come back and help after serving the customer. I take a few fresh loaves, and walk to the door which leads to the area we serve our customers. I push into the room and stop, loaves still in hand, because the boy leaning on the counter, is Gale.

I give my head the slightest of shakes, reminding myself that I just need to act normally around him. Either way, he would not think twice about my behaviour being off, since we hardly know each other personally. By the fact I'd never actually spoken to him before, I had always felt a burning jealousy towards this olive-skinned boy. I put the fresh loaves I am carrying in a cabinet and turn to him, my blue eyes avoiding his noticeably dark grey ones.

"Is your father here?" Gale asks, raising his eyebrows at me. Perhaps he had noticed my cool gaze.

"Yes, but he's busy." I say back, mustering something within myself to stop me from mumbling. Hoping that he doesn't notice the ever presence hitch in my tone, I still go back through the door and call for my father. Seconds later, he bustles into the room and serves Gale, whilst I lean against the wall. I ask myself the same question again, subtly looking him up and down. No, I'm never one for critique, but what is so great about him? Fine, he's good looking, but plenty of Seam boys have the same hard face and dark hair. He's surly and looks on the edge of his temper every time I see him. He passes a squirrel over the till, and my father gives him one of the fresh loaves. Gale says his goodbye, and is gone.

"Well, that was a waste of a loaf of bread." I snap at my father. And even I am surprised with myself, since I almost never get angry with him. I almost never get angry with anyone. I find it so easy to keep myself calm, focus on anything but the one thing that is causing me to flush. But perhaps the tension of the day is getting to me already, and it's barely past dawn.

"I was just being kind, he is a nice lad. If you got to know him you'd-." I interrupt him before he can continue with his lecture, one that he knows I find totally pointless.

"I'm not going to make an effort to get to know him, okay?" I walk past him, and purposely side step so our shoulders don't touch. I head up the stairs, not careful to be quiet this time. I find myself in the bathroom, splashing water on my reddened cheeks. I shouldn't have shouted at my father, who is so good natured and understanding. I know that he'd never purposely make me feel the way I do now. Childishly betrayed, flustered. I must've been in the bathroom for sometime, as Michael is banging on my door, demanding I hurry up. I purposely take my time to wash my hair and look at my reflection in the grubby mirror. I comb my hair to the best of my abilities but it just springs back into the normal blond curls on my head, I stare into my own eyes, dreading the day ahead of me.

When I'm finally done in the bathroom, I push past my brother who is overly keen to get into the bathroom, and almost knock into my mother.

"Watch where you're going Peeta," She whines, "You'll send me flying down the stairs."

"Sorry." I say gruffly, and close my bedroom door in her face. My mother. My unaffectionate, strict mother. I push the rejection I feel from my mind and cross to my bed. My room isn't large, just a dull bed, a desk and my wardrobe. I glance over at my desk, and begin to idly shift all my drawings into one pile, but I can't resist flicking through them. I like looking back through my work, especially looking at the girl I have drawn one hundred times over. Just then, my father pushes open the door. He looks down at the paper in my hand and frowns.

"Dad, you know, I am more concerned for her than myself." I look down at the drawing which I spent hours working over, forgetting entirely that I'd told myself I'd apologise to him.

"I know, but there's not much you can do but hope. The reaping is in three hours, make sure you're ready." He sighs before backing out of my room.

Of course, at midday, I must be in the square for the reaping. I cross to my window, only to see her. She's leaving the hob, the black market of District 12, and heading back to her home in the Seam. I sigh and close my eyes, having not expected that weight on my shoulders to press me further. I know that she would have signed up for tessarae again this year. Once you turn 12, and become of age to be entered in the reaping, you are able to apply for tessarae. It gives you a small supply of oil or grain for one person for a whole year. I've never needed it, so, at the age of 16, my name is in the reaping balls four times, one entry for each year I have participated. But the girl, she also applies for her sister and mother, so her name is in the ball twenty times. I take in a sharp intake of breath and exhale slowly, when I open my eyes, she's gone.

The Seam looks busier than normal, people walking from house-to-house. To wish each other luck, or to perhaps just trade simple items of clothing with one another. It is customary to dress smart for the cameras on a day such as the reaping. For the poor people of the Seam, that means saving their best clothes for this day. On the other hand, for people such as myself in the merchant class, it is not such a hardship to find something that isn't coated in a thick layer of coal dust.

I pull myself away from the window and open my wardrobe. I find myself a smart shirt and trousers, then some uncomfortable brown boots which I haven't yet had the chance to wear in. Funny, really. I am worrying that my shoes are too new, when someone out in the Seam would be paying for a pair of holed, second hand shoes. It was that, or get a fine for not being presentable. I wonder to the small family kitchen we have upstairs, and find my whole family eating bread and jam.

"Finally, you don't half take your time do you," says Ben, my older brother, with a mouthful of bread. My mother gives him a stern look and he swallows before he says, "don't look so serious, I've got more chance of going in than you." Yes, this is true, at 18 and in his last year of eligibility for the reaping, he has six entries.

"You'll both be fine. Peeta, sit down." My father says in his calmest voice, I pull up a chair in-between my brothers and begin to eat. The bread is stale, like normal. We live off the stuff, the dry loaves that nobody wanted. No one is particularly talkative, yet my mother surprises no one when she fusses over the state of us, brushing flour from our fingers irritably. It has always been this way, with her herding us around as if we three are a presentable group of cattle rather than her sons.

Once everyone has eaten we leave the bakery and head to the square. A stage has been built in front of the Justice Building, and red ropes enclose groups of children and separate them from the people who are not legible for the reaping, the lucky ones, the free ones. Only children between the ages of 12 and 18 are entered into the reaping, they are separated into age, with the oldest near the stage, and getting progressively younger toward the back. I separate from my family, my father, mother and oldest brother Michael stay behind the rope whilst Ben and I are herded into separate pens.

I look around, spotting a few familiar faces, friends from school, but I'm searching for someone else. Finally I see her, and she looks beautiful. More than usual, wearing a lovely blue dress which startlingly reminds me of the colour of my own eyes. Her long brown hair braided over her shoulder. I feel some sort of tingling in the tips of my fingers, and can't help a smile forming on my lips. I've never been ashamed of the urge I feel to reach out and touch that braid, to bless my fingers as if I were touching expensive silk.

I watch her separate from her younger sister and join the pen I am in. I straighten up and focus on the stage. All it is holding is three chairs, two people and a table holding two balls, filled with pieces of paper. Mayor Undersee and Effie Trinket are looking concerned, glancing at the empty chair beside them, but when the clock strikes two, the Mayor ignores the empty seat and stands to talk.

I tune out as he talks about the history of Panem, I've heard it every year since I can remember. It is drummed into my mind, and I could recite the history by heart without a hitch.

Panem, the country that rose up out of the ashes of a place that was once called North America. He lists the disasters, the droughts, the storms, the fires, the encroaching seas that swallowed up so much of the land, the brutal war for what little sustenance remained. The result was Panem, a shining Capitol ringed by thirteen districts, which brought peace and prosperity to its citizens.

Then came the Dark Days, the uprising of the districts against the Capitol. Twelve were defeated, the thirteenth obliterated. The Treaty of Treason gave us the new laws to guarantee peace and, as our yearly reminder that the Dark Days must never be repeated, it gave us the Hunger Games. The rules of the Hunger Games are simple. In punishment for the uprising, each of the twelve districts must provide one girl and one boy, called tributes, to participate. The twenty-four tributes will be imprisoned in a vast outdoor arena that could hold anything from a burning desert to a frozen wasteland. Over a period of several weeks, the competitors must fight to the death. The last tribute standing wins.

As if taking our children and forcing them to kill each other isn't enough, they also condemn us to celebrate the games. The district of the winning tribute is showered with gifts, mostly of food, for a year, whilst the tribute is granted a life of luxurious comfort. The Mayor finished his speech and ends by reading the very short list of victors from District 12. There's only been two, and only one still lives, Haymitch Abernathy. A drunkard, who, as if on queue, then staggers onto the stage and looks into the crowd with a bewildered expression plastered across his face. A few people applaud, but he falls into Effie Trinket, who tries to push him off her and makes her way to the podium. I can't help but notice that her ludicrous pink hair has shifted slightly, which makes me assume it's a wig. She also wears a green suit, all adding to the image of ridiculousness.

She recovers her stance, but hasn't quite noticed that her hair is askew. No one around me sniggers. She begins to trill in her stupid Capitol accent, "Happy Hunger Games! And may the odds be ever in your favour!" She looks embarrassed, it's common knowledge that she would much rather be working in another District, but no, she has us. Distict 12 isn't exactly the height of luxury. "Ladies first!" She sings, and crosses to the glass ball with the girls names in. I bite my lip and wish for the safety of the girl with the braid. Effie Trinket digs her hand into the ball and pulls out a slip of paper. I beg inside my head, hope. Effie Trinket has reached centre stage and is opening folded paper, she clears her throat and, it's not her. For a moment, I deflate like a lead balloon. The relief is a flash across my mind, before the real terror sets in.

"Primrose Everdeen."

_Primrose Everdeen._

That's her sister. The sister of the girl I love, the girl I love unconditionally. I know what's going to happen before it does. The small girl makes her way to the stage, with two blond plaits down her back and her shirt untucked. She is only 12, meaning her name was in that reaping ball just once. _Once_. What are the odds? My chest tightens as the scene plays out, clenching my fists and willing myself not to shout out, I cannot help.

I feel sick as Katniss Everdeen runs forward, pushes her sister aside and shouts, "I volunteer, I volunteer as tribute!"


	3. Chapter 2

I feel as if I've been punched. Hard in the gut. I let my head drop down to look at my feet, forcing back a tear that threatens to make an appearance. I refuse to cry, not here. I must watch her, as take strength from her. I know she'll be stranding tall on the stage, looking out at us all with casual interest. So when I look up and see her again, I'm surprised to see the unpredicted way her fingers are trembling. It makes things ten times worse for me. I can only think the way she feels, the way her mother and sister feel. Cold hatred courses through me, hatred for the Capitol and all that has just happened. This is wrong, and immoral. A young girl has sacrificed herself for her young, defenceless sister. And that's what it is, suicide. Because no tribute from district 12 stands any chance of winning the Games.

I chew the skin on the inside of my cheek, helping my concentrate as I hold back any more tears trying to escape. My finger nails scrape my legs from inside my pockets. The pain helps me focus a little, drawing my mine away from the pit I'm teetering on.

The unthinkable has happened. Katniss Everdeen, the girl whom I have loved for years, is gone. Well, going. Going somewhere where she will never know the burning desire I have held in for so long, the indescribable passion I have felt. Heartbreak and total misery sweeps over me, consuming my every thought. I had always hoped that one day I'd have the chance to tell her. That I'd pour my heart out to her, and it would all be set in stone from then on. For one, I knew that she'd grow up to marry Gale. It was sickening to feel that way, but I had no control over her. I never wanted to control her, just to let her know I love her. Yet, I had no way of telling her. No big speech lined up, or any offerings to give. I know now, that she will never know.

"No." I whisper, almost inaudibly so no one around me will hear. She going to die, she's going to loose her life. And for what? Some sick event to draw the citizens of the Capitol to their screens? I clench my teeth and force myself to be strong for her, even though I know she won't realise or care.

Effie Trinket starts talking again. The shrillness of her voice pulls me out of my haze, a distraction since it's such a strain on my ears. "Lovely!" she says. "But I believe there's a small matter of introducing the reaping winner and then asking for volunteers, and if one does come forth then we, um..." She doesn't finish her sentence. I feel annoyed for some reason.

The Mayor just says, "What does it matter." whilst he wears an unusual expression. He's looking at Katniss, he seems to recognise her, I don't know where from, but there's a sort of electrical pulse running through me. How does he know her and I don't. Anyone who has a connection with Katniss, I am jealous of. Why am I unable to even say 'hello'? I am a disgrace. "What does it matter." He repeats himself. "Let her come forward."

Katniss' sister is screaming, clinging to Katniss' dress, wrapping her arms around her. "No Katniss! No! You can't go!". It's cruel, and there's no other word of the matter. I feel my heart break, just that little bit more, which I didn't know was possible as it was so torn already, by her unknowing, her imminent death, the sense of her families loss.

"Prim, let go, " she says stiffly. I cannot hear her personally, but the screens all around echo her voice. I see the slight shift of her footing, and I can tell she is trying not to cry, which makes me want to move myself. I want to go to her side, press a kiss to her cheek before ushering her onto the stage once I've freed her little sisters grasp. "Let go!" She says sharply. Then, Gale is lifting Prim from behind Katniss, carrying her away. I had taken the step forward to do just the same. I envy Gale for having the authority. I see he says something but I don't hear what it is. I'm not sure if it's the fact I'm closing up in my own grief for Katniss, with my ears numbing and vision blurring, or if it's just Gale trying not to break, by keeping his voice to a whisper.

As Prim is carried away from her by Gale, Katniss stiffens her limbs and climbs the steps to stand beside Effie Trinket."Well, bravo!" she gushes. "That's the spirit of the Games!" She's too happy for my liking, and it seems for anyone else's liking, either. Each and every person around me is stiff. "What's your name?"

"Katniss Everdeen."

Her voice makes my stomach jump. Her voice, the one which silences every bird when she sings, is trying hard not to disintegrate.

"I bet my buttons that was your sister. Don't want her to steal all the glory, do we? Come on, everybody! Let's give a big round of applause to out newest tribute!" trills Effie Trinket. _I bet my buttons you don't care who the tribute is. _I say to myself, the sarcasm dripping from my voice in my mind. I am not the only who doesn't feel like applauding though. Everyone in the audience is silent. Then, I see, out of the corner of my eye, my father. Raising the three fingers of his left hand to his lips, and then to Katniss. An old man beside him, then a woman from the Seam, and then, the whole of District 12. This is an old and rarely used gesture. It is sometimes used at funerals. It means thanks, it means admiration, it means goodbye to someone you love. That's why I feel bad when I am one of the last to raise my hand, because I honestly do love her. So much. I suppose I was just so taken back by my District, my poor, cold District. I gush silent thanks to my father, for starting the gesture. Of course he does not love Katniss, he loved her mother.

When I was young, my father told me of a beautiful girl from the apothecary in town, who ran off with a coal miner from the Seam. I used to ask, "Why would she choose a coal miner over you?"

His reply was always the same "Because when he sings, even the birds stop to listen." Katniss has the same effect on me as her mother had on my father. I have loved her since the first day of school, when she sang, and I knew that there was no going back. I wanted to run off with a girl from the Seam.

Just then, Haymitch staggers towards Katniss and wraps his arms around her shoulders. I don't feel jealous, as this person is hardly aware of his actions. I just feel a cold tingle of anger, since the look on Katniss' face shows just how uncomfortable the intimacy is making her. "Look at her! Look at this one! I like her!" He sways on his unsteady feet. "Lots of..." His face contorts, thinking of the right word. "Spunk!" he shouts.

Then he's pointing towards the camera, it makes me smirk as he shouts at the Capitol, even in his state. "More than you!" And with that, he falls off the stage and knocks himself out on the floor. There are some disconnected laughs from the audience. The look on Effie Trinket's face is what amuses me, she knows that the rest of Panem will be laughing at the screen that she is on. She pulls herself together.

"What an exciting day! But more excitement to come! It's time to choose our boy tribute!" She strides to the reaping ball with the boys names in, pulls the first name that she encounters from it and crosses back to the podium. She opens it and says "Peeta Mellark!"

_What?_

I am not sure if I am lucky or unlucky. To be chosen to be in the Hunger Games is unlucky. But to be entering the arena with the one person I think I would die for. Mixed emotions, whether they cross my face or not I don't care. But it all rushes up and hits me like a wave. Then... fear. I had to move, but my feet seemed glued to the ground. I think of the girl on the stage and almost trip with the haste of my first step. I slow down, exhale and begin to make my way towards the stage. The walk seemed endless, it feels like hours. Every face is turned to watch me and my slow ascent of the steps. I'm never coming home. I am never going to see my brothers, my father, my mother, my friends again. I want to look around, search all their faces one more time. But that can wait, I will see them briefly in the Justice Building in under an hour. Now, I must focus on the girl with the braid. She's looking at me, butterflies race in my stomach, just like they do every time she notices me looking at her at school.

Effie asks for volunteers, I am glad there is silence, I don't want to have to do what Primrose did.

As the Mayor reads the Treaty of Treason, I think of all the moments I've shared with Katniss. Most involve me looking at her at school, and she notices my eyes observing her and I quickly flit away. The one real connection we had, happened years ago. I remember it so clearly, and I know I will never let it it begin to fade, let alone disappear.

I remember my mother fuming, as she saw Katniss lifting the lid of the bins in our back yard. I followed her to the door, and winced as my mother shouted at her, yelling for her to go away. I stayed hanging out of the door as my mother pushed past me. I watched as Katniss lent against the apple tree me and my brothers climb in the summer, and saw her sink to her knees. I felt the cold, the rain drumming against the muddy back garden. I imagined the pain she was in, the hunger, her frozen limbs, her wet clothes, the aching loss of her father. Recently, there had been a mine explosion. It was not entirely uncommon, but this one had been especially bad. There were many victims, and one happened to be Mr Everdeen. And her family had begun slowly starving to death. It seemed easily to be a worse pain than a beating from my mother. I rushed inside, and looked to see if my mother was in view. When the coast was clear, I dropped two loaves of bread into the flames of the oven. I felt the blow on my face before I could reach towards them and pull them back out. That had been by no means the first time she'd yelled at me Fuelled by her lingering rage towards Katniss, she seemed especially angry. I pulled out the loaves from the flames, ignoring the throbbing across my face caused by my mothers lash, and headed to the door before my mother could push me there. "Feed it to the pig! You stupid creature!" That's what my mother thought I was, nothing but a creature. "Why not? No one decent will buy burnt bread!"

I had crossed to the pigs pen and began ripping the burnt outside of the bread and throwing it to the animals, who gobbled it up straight away. I had waited until my mother was out of sight before tossing one loaf, then the other toward the girl under the tree. I didn't even look over my shoulder as I ran back inside before I did anything stupid like try to talk to her. Once inside, I'd peeked out the window, grateful to see her shove the loaves up he shirt and run from the yard. I smiled and then began working again as if nothing had happened.

I hope Katniss remembers this event, I can do nothing but remember it everyday. Then, Katniss is holding her hand out to mine, and the Mayor is gesturing for us to shake hands. I give her hand a squeeze, and hope she realises I am trying to comfort her. We then turn to the audience, who are applauding. The three-fingered gesture is forgotten, but I am almost sure that it will be edited out before the reaping is broadcast to the rest of Panem. Any small act of defiance is considered treason. No one ever volunteers in district 12, since the prize is most certainly death. But this girl beside me, with her grey eyes staring out to the crowd with a vacant expression, has done the unspeakable.

She's saved her sister from the Capitol.

If the Games don't get her, then I'm almost sure hunger will. My chest tightens at the thought. I wonder what it must be like for her, with each day wondering whether she'd be able to go to bed knowing she'd filled her families stomachs. It shouldn't be her job to care for them. But without her father, she took up the role of protecting them, feeding them and sheltering them. In a way, I am proud. She wouldn't have gone about it any other way. I know well that she hunts illegally in the woods, collecting fruits, berries, roots and game. We all have to make a living some how. My family eats stale bread, her family eats fresh meat from the woods. I can't help but respect everything about her.

I let a smile form on my lips, and though it is entirely genuine, it will be seen as completely fake to the cameras. I spot my father and lock eyes with him. I know what he's saying. _You have an opportunity I never had, take it._

_Maybe I'll get the chance to tell her, after all._


	4. Chapter 3

I am forced to release her hand as we are escorted into the Justice building and put in separate rooms. I look down at my palm, and find myself kind of overwhelmed by the fact that Katniss had clutched it. She had held my hand like it was the only thing left she had to hold on to. Such a simple connection has sent my heart racing. The pounding against my chest forces me to take a huge breath, exhale, and close my eyes for just a second. When I open them, I look around the room. It's not huge, but it's luxury beyond anything I've ever seen. It has one plush sofa large enough to seat three or maybe four people, and an arm chair off to the side. The walls of the room are filled with books, hundreds and hundreds of books. I am wondering just how many books there are, when my father is steps in the doorway. For a long moment, I just look at my father. And as always, I allow my mind to stray from this moment in time. It's the way I avert from awkward goodbyes. The peacekeeper at his side gives me a nod and backs out the room.

Peacekeepers, they do exactly what their named for, keep the peace in the Districts. Although, all the ones in District 12 are corrupt. I know this because I see Katniss selling her game to them often. She hunts in the woods almost everyday to feed her family, and almost everyday I watch her walk past my home towards the Hob. Her and Gale sometimes come and sell squirrels to my father. Mother hates the things, but he always cooks them up whilst she's out, sometimes I eat them, too. I admire her skill, she always shoots the thing through the eye, sparing all the meat on the squirrels body. Hunting is illegal in District 12, even leaving the confines of the fence is illegal, I admire her. For the lengths she will go to keep her family alive, breaking dozens of laws and risking herself each day. If that's not courage, then I don't know what is.

Suddenly, I am pulled from my thoughts of Katniss as my father places his hand on my shoulder. "I know you'll do the right thing," He whispers. The right thing? What does he mean? He must notice the confusion registering on my face because he then says, "If you choose her, over yourself, I will be proud of you." I watch a tear form at his eye and slide past his nose. "I will miss you, so much. But I know that what ever you decide to do will be the right thing."

So, he is thinking exactly what I'm thinking, that I am going to sacrifice myself to ensure Katniss returns to her home. I am going to do everything in my power to keep her alive. And why would I ever consider any alternative? I life without her, however unbeknownst she may be to my love, would be tortuous. So it's inevitable. I will die to save her, and in turn, her family. I'd fail everything I believe in if I do not. I slump onto the centre of the sofa and press the palms of my hands into my eyes. I like it, all I can see is the inside of my eyelids and the red blotches appearing on them as I press harder. Swallowed by the darkness, the red seems much like blood. Mine, hers, others. All I know, is that there will be blood. I feel my father sit himself next to me, but I stay in the position I'm in. "Don't worry about me. Please, look after her sister and mother." I murmur.

"Of course I will." He replies. I didn't really need to ask. I knew that's what he would do, since he knows me so well.

Then, we just sit there in silence until the peacekeepers come and take him away. When I take my hands from my eyes my vision is blurred, but I can see him turn to face me just before he walks through the door, "I believe in you Peeta, don't ever forget that." and with that, he's gone.

Seconds pass and my mother pushes into the room, looks me up and down with an expression that I cannot decipher. Her blue eyes lock onto mine and she crosses her arms over her chest.

"Maybe District 12 will finally have a winner." She says, matter of factly. I am confused for a moment. Are my ears betraying me, or is she showing actual signs of belief in her son? Then she says, "She's a survivor that one."

Yes, of course, she didn't mean me, she meant Katniss. Even though I did not intend to win, I intended Katniss' victory, I was hurt. My own mother, practically wishing death upon me by showing her favour for another tribute.

"Thanks." I say sharply.

All she does is raise her eyebrow and say, "I suppose this is goodbye, then." When I don't reply, she turns to walk out the door. Before leaving, she looks back. Her eyes linger on me, and I see a flash of something in her eyes. Before I can decipher the expression, it is gone. My mother rebuilds her cold, hard shell. I hadn't expected anything else. It seems all her motherly love ebbed away when me and my brothers had grown to become teenagers. She was constantly miserable, and I was used to it. I expected nothing more. She leaves, and the door clicks shut behind her. At that point, I can't help but break down. I let a strangled noise leave my mouth and then I begin to cry. I don't care who sees, even when my brothers come in I just weep into Michaels shoulder, while he awkwardly pats my back.

Ben comes and sits on my other side, "Good luck, Peeta." I look up and wipe my eyes, which are sore and probably swollen. All I can do is nod and hug them both. We've never been very close, my brothers and I, but they both return my hug. Then, Ben removes a thick hemp bracelet from his wrist. "Wear this, as your token." He requests, I take the bracelet and sniff.

We are allowed one thing to take into the arena to remind us of home, and I will hold onto this bracelet tightly through the whole nightmare ahead of me. I say nothing, since I have nothing to say. How can I tell my brothers that I am positive I will never see them again?

The peacekeepers soon barge in and tell my brothers its time to go. As they leave the door, I see Gale, he's just passing by. It's obvious that he has just been to see Katniss as he's flustered and being pushed by the peacekeepers. He sees me looking at him, and he turns to the peacekeeper.

"Can I go in, just for a minuet?" He asks, his voice thick and heavy with some emotion a cannot gague, but the peacekeepers shake their heads and slam the door. Why did he want to talk to me? Probably to tell me to do what I intend to do anyway, die for Katniss.

There's no point wiping the tears from my eyes, they will still be puffy and red when the cameras film me. So when I am pulled from my seat and shoved into a car with darkened windows, I allow the tears to keep coming. I don't wail like a wounded animal. I sit quietly, letting hot tears roll down my cheeks and stain my shirt. I only manage to stop when I am stepping on to the platform of the train station and cameras are being pushed into my face from every direction. I stumble, but I am stopped to have my picture taken. Katniss is not far from my side, her face is blank, wiped of any emotion. I then feel weak, that she has stayed so strong and uncaring and I have been weeping. I bow my head until I am allowed onto the train. The train immediately begins to move, unbelievably fast. I remember once being stunned when told that these Capitol trains can travel at around 250 miles an hour.

When I finally notice my surroundings, I can see it's even more plush and expensive than the Justice Building. The luxury of that room I had said my goodbyes in is next to nothing compared to this train compartment. I see Haymitch, swaying as he tries to catch his balance after the train set off. I nod and say, "Maybe you should go and sleep off the drink." Haymitch looks at me, well, as best he can.

"Yes, maybe I will." Then he staggers off down the corridor. I watch him go, and wonder how on earth he won his Games. But of course, he wouldn't have been a drunk before then. There would be no need for him to drown out his nightmares. I think what becoming a Victor would do to Katniss. No Victor is entirely sane.

I am guided into a room, and I can't help but let my jaw drop. I forget all my worries at the point of time and admire the room in front of me. My chamber has it's own bathroom, a large bed with soft, clean sheets and pillows, a chest of drawers filled with luxurious clothes. I don't feel like changing, but my clothes are drenched in sweat, so I strip off, splash my face with cool water from the sink and dress in some comfy brown trousers and a grey shirt. I explore the room for sometime, and then Effie Trinket comes to collect me for supper. I follow her down the rocking corridors of the train and enter a room with a table.

"Sit, sit!" trills Effie Trinket, and waves to the seats around the grand table. I sit and pick up the plate in front of me, it's delicately painted with gold swirls. "I'll go collect Katniss." she says, and then she leaves the room. I try and relax, not wanting to come across as the weeping boy on the train platform again. Only a few minuets pass, and then Effie Trinket returns with Katniss trailing behind her. She has also changed, the dark green colour suits her and I only just manage to stop myself smiling, but I feel I might be blushing. I silently curse myself for being such an idiot.

"Where's Haymitch?" asks Effie.

"Last time I saw him, he sad he was going to take a nap." I say, then I look at my hands. I fiddle with the bracelet my brother gave me. I'd tied it much to tight around my wrist when he'd given it to me, and now I struggle to loosen it.

"Well, it's been an exhausting day!" Effie Trinket says. Her and Katniss sit down, my stomach does a somersault when Katniss takes her seat next to mine. Still these simple actions are causing me to loose my breath. I need to start adjusting, or I'll spend my whole time in the Capitol too dizzy to do anything.

The food beings to fill the table, firstly a carrot soup with salad, then lamb chops with mashed potatoes, cheese and fruit and then a magnificent chocolate cake. The cake is better than the ones my mother bakes, I smirk at the thought of her fuming when I criticise her cooking. The food being placed before us is delicious and a stuff myself. I have never felt so full in all my life, nor have I enjoyed a meal so much. The taste of the food almost entirely eradicates my feeling of self pity. Almost.

"At least you two have decent manners," sighs Effie Trinket, obviously she hasn't noticed me shoving forkfuls of food into my already full mouth. "The pair last year ate everything with their hands like a couple of savages. It completely upset my digestion." Well, I do know how to use a knife and fork, maybe that's what she means. Last years tributes had both been Seam kids, so the fact that they ate with their hands doesn't surprise me. And of course, the train meals would have been the most food they had ever seen. I continue to shove the meal down my throat, whilst Katniss decides to put down her knife and fork and consume the rest of the meal with her fingers. She knows just how to stiff things up. I hold back a laugh at Effie Trinket purses her lips.

It's not long until I regret stuffing myself with the food. At home, I eat little more than stale bread, and the rich Capitol food has upset my stomach. I hold myself together as we are guided into yet another expensively furnished room and sat down in front of a large screen. We watch the replay of the reapings in all 12 districts of Panem. I only notice three or four of the other tributes, the ones that stand out to me. A well muscled boy who volunteers immediately in district 2, accompanied by a tall and strong looking girl. A boy with a crippled foot from district 10 and a small, dark skinned, twelve-year-old from district 11. I feel a pang of upset when this wispy twelve-year-old stands alone on the stage whilst volunteers are asked for. When it comes to district 12, and Katniss jumping forward to take Prim's place, a rush of feelings run through me again. Haymitch stumbles forward and performs his head dive off the stage. Then I am reaped and we both shake hands. The Seal of Panem, and then the screen just shows static. Until we get to the Capitol, that is all I will know. I don't even remember the names of any of the other tributes. Frankly, I don't want to know them. I am going to be heavily exposed to them over the coming weeks, so I imagine that soon they'll be drilled into my mind, even though I do not want them to be.

Effie Trinket huffs, "Your mentor has a lot to learn about presentation! A lot about televised behaviour." She's referring to Haymitch and the way he acted at the reaping. There's nothing new, though. He's drunk all the time, and the Games are no exception. I think the dive off stage added at least a tiny bit of humour to the event, which I'd rather not mull over again. I push the reaping from my mind.

I just laugh, "He's drunk every year."

"Every day." says Katniss. I blush, because this is the first time she has directly replied to me.

Effie just hisses, "Yes, how odd you two find it amusing. You know your mentor is your lifeline to the world in these Games. The one who advises you, lines up your sponsors, and dictates the presentation of any gifts. Haymitch can well be the difference between your life and your death!" She sits back in her chair triumphantly, as if whatever she just said had settled a huge debate.

Then, as if on queue, Haymitch enters the compartment. "I miss supper?" He manages to say before he vomits all over the floor. The smell hits me almost instantly, and I gag on the scent of bile and alcohol.

"So laugh away!" sings Effie Trinket, as she jumps over the pool of vomit and leaves the room, leaving Katniss and I with a retching Haymitch.


	5. Chapter 4

I look down at the man on the floor. He slips in the vomit as he tries to stand, and the smell makes me wrinkle my nose. I can see out of the corner of my eye that Katniss is completely repulsed by the situation. She turns her head to me and we both seem to decide to help him, because Effie Trinket is right, he's the one who we've got to count on. Katniss and I each take one of Haymitch's arms.

When he notices us, he asks, "I tripped? Smells bad." then he proceeds to wipe his face with the back of his hand, which only spreads the vomit across his cheek. I try not to gag.

"Lets get you back to your room," I manage to say. "Clean you up a bit." Then we begin to haul him down the corridor to his compartment. We veer past the bed and take him straight to the bathroom. I turn the tap on the bath and warm water gushes from the shower, a luxury my family could hardly ever afford back at home. I glance around the bathroom, as I didn't take a proper look whilst in my compartment. The impressive golden bath tub that Haymitch is sitting in, the tall elegant shower, the huge mirror sweeping around the room, reflecting me from every angle. It's truly magnificent. Katniss stands at a slight distance from the tub, looking revolted by the dishevelled man in the bath tub.

"It's okay, I'll take it from here." I sigh to her. I see relief cross her face, but she quickly replaces it with a stern expression.

"All right," She replies. "I can send one of the Capitol people to help you." I wave away her offer, not wanting to be helped by anyone who is employed by the Capitol.

"No. I don't want them," is all I say. She just nods, turns, and walks from the room.

I sigh heavily and manage to pull my gaze from the door she just exited through. I turn off the tap so that Haymitch is sat in a shallow pool of warm water. I dread the task ahead of me and just manage to strip him of his sodden trousers and shirt. I leave on his underwear, for my own sake. I scrub him whilst he mumbles about getting himself more liquor from a Capitol attendant. When Haymitch it reasonably clean I drain the tub but leave Haymitch in the bathroom whilst I go to find him some clean clothes. I pull open the large drawers and find him some cotton, pin striped pyjamas. I take them back to the bathroom and order him to dry himself with a soft white towel I find by the sink, and to put on the pyjamas. I have to wait for quite a while before Haymitch stumbles out of the bathroom and sits next to me on the perfectly made bed. His hair is damp and his breath stinks of liquor.

"I don't sleep at night." He slurs to me.

"Sure you do Haymitch, just get under the covers and you'll sleep." I reply, getting up and trying to pull him to get into bed.

"No!" He says, a bit too loudly. A Capitol attendant must have heard him from the corridor, there is a light knock on the door and a blond, female attendant pokes their head through the door.

"Is everything okay in here?" She asks, she sees Haymitch sway on the spot before he slumps onto the corner of the bed and then slides down to the floor. "I will deal with him." and then she swiftly enters the room and kneels beside him.

I leave the room quickly, I feel as if I had done enough of a task by cleaning him up, I just wanted to sleep.

As I walk past the door of Katniss' compartment I hesitate, then pull myself together and make my way to my own compartment. She won't want to talk to me, she will want to think of her family. Her sister and her mother. I remember finding out that her father had died in a mining accident like it was yesterday. Each District in Panem specialises in a certain area, 12 is a coal mining District. Almost all of our population works deep down underground, mining coal to be dispersed across Panem. There are rarely accidents, but when there are there are always fatalities. There was an alarm during school, most of the kids parents work down in the mines and Katniss was one of the first to spring from her seat and run to find her sibling before running to the entrance of the mine. Hours, she spent hours sitting with her sister and mother as one by one, workers were bought up from the depths. They became more desperate, you could see how their hopes would fade a little more each time a face that was not one they loved exited the mine.

I snuck out the back door with a flask of tea that evening. I found the three of them staring towards the mine, eyes empty. I handed them each a mug of tea, but none of them acknowledged me. I pulled off my jacket and placed it on Prim's shoulders because I could see her shivering. I wanted to put my hand on Katniss' shoulders, but I couldn't bring myself to. I trudged home, down cast with the knowledge that Katniss has lost her father. When I slipped through the back door I was met by my mother. She was not happy with my disappearing. Not because I had walked off, in the dark without telling her like most parents would be. It was because I took the tea. I shut myself in my room, and when my father entered after half an hour or so, I sobbed into his shoulder and told him about the girl I loved. He told me about the girl he once loved too, Katniss' mother. Since that day I have told my father everything, he is and will remain my confidant. Well, not any more, as I do not plan on ever seeing him again, for if I do see him again, it means the death of the girl with the braid. The girl who hunts in the woods, lives in the seam, trades in the hob. The girl that I have been unable to shift from my mind for 11 years.

My compartment provides little comfort for my worries. It's not inviting. It's too clean, cold and it's not home. I decide just to wash and go to bed, as I may find come comfort in sleep. The shower has a lot of buttons. I puzzle over which ones to press, so I decide on two buttons on the top row, take off my Capitol clothes and slip into the warmth. I've never had a shower before, I have only ever had a bath in my home. It's like the rain we occasionally get in 12, but much more pleasant. I close my eyes and let the warmth slide over my body. After about 20 minuets I step onto a grate on the floor which instantly dries me. I am surprised by the sudden dryness of my skin and some sort of smile crosses my lips as I think of how amazing the device is. In front of the mirror and around the sink are all sorts of brushes, soaps and other objects. There's a gold metal plate. I place my hand on it and the hair on my head dried just like my skin and flattens for a moment, before it springs back to its usual waves on my forehead. I pull a soft robe over myself, it feels nice against my skins and I decide not to find pyjamas in the drawers. I just climb into the sweet smelling bed and fall asleep almost immediately.

My sleep is interrupted by a nightmare where I am tied naked to a wooden post in the middle of a scorching desert whilst Katniss' silhouette slides into the horizon. I find it hard to calm myself but I cannot sleep again. Upon rising from my bed I decide to change into something from the chest of drawers anyway. I pull on some comfy black trousers and a white shirt and cross to the window. The world whizzes by, and I just watch as the scenery changes and the sun rises. It's not long until Effie Trinket is bustling into the room.

"Oh Peeta, you are already awake!" She says delightedly. "Breakfast is being served so go down to the dining car." Then she leaves the room. I go down to the dining car and I'm surprised to see Haymitch sitting upright eating a hearty breakfast of eggs and ham.

"Sobered up a bit then?" I ask, although Haymitch's eyes are puffy from an obvious lack of sleep, he does look better than he did last night. I take a seat as far from him as possible and I'm immediately provided with a plate of food like Haymitch by a Capitol attendant. I also get a cup of hot chocolate. Sometimes father buys us hot chocolate as a treat, I love it and immediately grab a roll of bread from a basket and dip it in. I picked up this habit from my older brother, the warm, creamy drink seeps into the soft roll and tastes delicious. I indulge in the hot chocolate, and then Katniss enters the room.

"Sit down! Sit sown!" says Haymitch. So she does slip into the seat opposite me and is served a heaping plate of food like mine. She also gets served a mug of hot chocolate and looks inquisitively at it.

"They call it hot chocolate," I say. "It's good." She picks up the mug and takes a sip, I can see the warmth run through her like it always runs through me and smile to myself. I watch her as she drains the mug completely before she starts on the plate of food in front of her. I keep slowly dipping a roll into my hot chocolate, I'm not that hungry but I do eat most of what's on my plate because it would be rude not to. Haymitch is drinking some kind of juice which he is thinning with some kind of liquor. I roll my eyes because by the time we reach the Capitol he'll be just as useful ash he was on reaping day. My mind returns to what Effie said the other day, 'Your mentor is your lifeline to the world in these Games. The one who advises you, lines up your sponsors, and dictates the presentation of any gifts. Haymitch can well be the difference between your life and your death!'

I feel overcome with anger that his drinking is going to affect our, I mean Katniss', chances in the arena. "So, you're supposed to give us advice," I hear Katniss say. I look up to see her looking at Haymitch with the same kind of anger I just felt. Maybe she noticed him drinking too and understood what it meant for her.

Haymitch chuckles and says. "Here's some advice. Stay alive." then he bursts out laughing. Katniss and I look at each other, I realise what a danger that Haymitch poses to Katniss' life and I tense my muscles.

"That's very funny," I hiss to Haymitch then I quickly snatch the glass from Haymitch's hand and shove it to the floor. The glass smashes and the red liquid stains the floor and runs to the back of the train. "Only not to us."

I don't see it coming, but the next thing that happens is Haymitch's fist making contact with my face and I slam onto the floor. I clutch my jaw and look up to see Haymitch try to pick up the liquor but Katniss drives a knife between his hand and the bottle. My eyes widen at the fire in her expression as the knife barely misses the tips of his fingers. Haymitch just considers both of us and retracts his hand and sits back in his chair.

"Well, what's this?" says Haymitch. "Did I actually get a pair of fighters this year?"

I get to my feet and scoop up some ice to my jaw. I didn't notice it before but it's throbbing badly and I can tell it's going to leave a nasty bruise, maybe even a cut as I can feel the metallic taste of my own blood from my split lip.

"No," Haymitch rises to his feet, holding his hand out to stop me. "Let the bruise show. The audience will think you've mixed it up with another tribute before you've even made it to the arena."

"That's against the rules," I say.

"Only if they catch you. That bruise will say you fought, you weren't caught, even better." Haymitch says. Then he turns to Katniss and raises his eyebrows. "Can you hit anything with that knife besides the table?" I am very impressed when she wrenches the knife from the table, throws it towards the wall and it sticks firmly between two panels.

"Stand over here. Both of you." He requests, nodding us to stand in the middle of the room. I feel uncomfortable whilst he circles both of us prods our shoulders and thighs. He grabs my jaw with his thumb and forefinger, examining my face. A wave of pain runs through my jaw as he squeezed the forming bruise on my face. "Well, you're not entirely hopeless. Seem fit. And once the stylists get hold of you, you'll be attractive enough." Usually the more attractive tributes pull more sponsors during the games, which can be a great help.

Haymitch sighs, "All right I'll make a deal with you. You don't interfere with my drinking, and I'll stay sober enough to help you. But you have to do exactly what I say." It's not the best deal I've ever heard of, but it's better than the arrangement we had before.

"Fine," I say.

"So help us," Katniss butts in. "When we get to the arena, what's the best strategy at the Cornucopia for someone-"

"One thing at a time. In a few minuets, we'll be pulling into the station. You'll be put into the hands of your stylists. You're not going to like what they do to you. But no matter what it is, don't resist." says Haymitch.

"But-" Katniss starts again.

"No buts. don't resist." says Haymitch. He swipes the bottle of liquor from the table and leaves the car. Then the car goes black, I turn to the window and see that we are in some kind of tunnel. This must be the tunnel that runs through the mountains surrounding the Capitol. These mountains played an important part in the battle which left the Capitol in charge of Panem, because it forms a natural barrier between the itself and the Districts.

Katniss and I stand in silence whilst the darkness hangs over us. The darkness of the tunnel, of the Games we are forced to participate in.

Slowly light fills the car again and I sigh with relief, maybe there is light at the end of the tunnel, for Katniss. Not me.

Then I see a grand city emerging, Katniss and I run to the window to stare at the Capitol. It looks amazing, beautiful almost. It's also magnificent. The bright colours and the shiny buildings seem so unnatural and out of place surrounded by the mountains. I can see the people, looking just as unnatural as the city around them. They all being to excitedly point at our train, knowing that it must be a tribute train. They must see Katniss and I because the jump up and down with excitement. I know the whole concept of the Games is sick, but it's not only Haymitch who can help un in the arena, it's these people too. Because of that, I wave to them.

As we pull into the station, I notice Katniss has stepped back from the window and is looking repulsed by me. I shrug as her disdainful look. "Who knows?" I say. "One of them may be rich."

I have to turn away from her because there are butterflies rising up in my stomach. I know the look she was giving me wasn't exactly a good one, but her eyes resting on me just makes my stomach flip. I think of all the reasons I want to keep her alive, her eyes, her voice, her love for her sister. All the things I would never let the Capitol extinguish.


	6. Chapter 5

Katniss and I are swept from the train and bustled straight into cars with blackened windows. I am slightly disappointed that we took the trip to the Remake Centre separately, but after the look she was giving me as we pulled into the station, I assume she was glad we took different cars. Once at the Remake Centre I am escorted into a plain room with white tiles and walls, a table and a shelf of many bottles, pots and cloths.

"Your prep team will be with you in a minuet." says the Capitol attendant who lead me here.

"Okay, thanks." I reply. He leaves and shuts the door behind him. I stand awkwardly, there's no where to sit and I feel out of place. This room is so clean, it feels wrong. I decide to look at the multicoloured items on the shelf. They bear names that I've never heard of, contain ingredients which sound as silly as the Capitol accent. I'm just examining a pot labelled 'Body Butter Foundation' when three extravagant people enter the room.

"Ah, Peeta! So nice to meet you at last!" exclaims a woman with electric blue hair that falls down her back and similarly coloured make-up. "I am Melinda, this is Xenia." she gestures to a woman who looks a few years younger, wearing a striking yellow suit. "And this is Taylor." A beaming man with green eyebrows behind her waves excitedly.

"Lets not waste time." says Xenia, "There's a lot to do." She strides over to a door which I didn't notice before. "Follow me, Peeta."

We go into a grand bathroom, not much different to the ones on the Tribute train, except it's all white. There is already a tub full of a thick, green, egg smelling sludge. My three stylists look at me expectantly.

"What?" I ask, I hear myself and regret the rudeness in my voice. Taylor just raises his eyebrows, they look like bright slugs.

"In you get, it will soften your skin," He says. "No need to be embarrassed." I realise what they want me to do. They want me to take off my clothes and get in whilst they rush around me, 'prepping' me for the Opening Ceremony. I am about to refuse, storm from the room. Then I remember Haymitch's words.

_'You're not going to like what they do to you. But no matter what it is, don't resist.'_

I sigh heavily. Then I take off my clothes, turning my back to my prep team. I try my hardest to cover myself up before I slip into the bath. I am thankful for it's thickness now, there's no chance they will see me through this stuff. I soak in the tub for around twenty minuets whilst Melinda massages something into my hair, Xenia trims my nails and Taylor prepares some other treatments I am sure I will endure in the next few hours.

As I predicted, I am lathered in all types of foul textured and repulsively smelling concoctions. There is an especially nasty yellow cream that stings as Taylor rubs it into my jaw.

"What's this one for?" I ask as I wince.

"This will keep your face smooth for weeks!" He says. "I have my own pot at home, it's wonderful." I never let the hair on my face grow, I've always shaved ever since my father taught me, but this limitation of a natural force makes me feel sick. I hate the Capitol and their stupid fashions, alterations and obsessions. I've seen the other things they do to themselves. They go further than dying their eye brows green.

"Right, we are just about done here." says Melinda. She cups my face with her hand. "Hmm, yes. Now we just need you to pop into the shower to wash off the cream." I nod and struggle to pull myself out of the tub. Then I stride to the shower, covering my manhood as I go. Xenia presses a few buttons and a warm soapy spray rains down on me. I try and stay in the shower longer than I need, but Xenia gets tired of waiting and practically steps into the shower with me and tugs me from it. I am grateful when Taylor passes me a towel. I wrap it around my waist and I'm taken back into the room with a table in the centre.

"Lie down here, we just need to make some final adjustments." Orders Melinda as she pats the table. I climb onto it and look at the ceiling. The three of them circle me, dabbing a bit of something here and there until the all stand back and admire me. I swing my legs off the table and stand to face them.

"You're going to have to remove the towel now, Peeta." says Xenia. "Portia will want to examine you properly now we have done our bit." I stare at her in disbelief. I've been obviously been trying to keep myself covered for the past three hours, and now she's trying to strip me of my dignity anyway. Whoever this Portia person is, I don't want her to see me naked either.

"Peeta! We are all human!" trills Taylor. I am shocked by this man, the two woman seem so tame, excluding their fashion sense, and he is so over the top. He pretty much pulls the towel off me and there I am, stood naked in front of three complete strangers. "Wonderful!" says Taylor. Then I see the excitable side of Xenia and Melinda.

"With just a bit of work, you really do look like a normal human being!" says Xenia, clapping her hands together.

"Oh yes, Portia and Cinna have designed a beautiful outfit too, it really is amazing, the crowd are going to love you!" and with that, the tree of them sweep from the room, excitedly chatting about the Opening Ceremony and what they will be wearing. I am again left to stand awkwardly. I feel a shiver run through me, but there's no point in reaching for the towel again. This Portia woman will most definitely remove it from me immediately.

I think back to past years, where District 12 tributes have been forced to enter the Capitol just as I am now. Naked. With just coal dust to cover them. The tributes wear something which relates to their Districts principle industry. District 7, wood and paper. District 11, agriculture. District 12, coal mining. Katniss and I will wear similar outfits, and for her sake, I hope my stylist has something good lined up. I don't realise the woman slide into the room, so when I turn around to see her standing by the door, I jump back and cover myself with my hands. I'm surprised to see her smile and I torn between covering the obvious blush on my face and the bits I'm already covering.

"Hello Peeta, I am Portia. I'm going to be your stylist." She raises her eye brow at the look on my face. Portia looks almost normal. She has shoulder length brunette hair and is wearing a simple black suit. "Don't worry, I don't bite." She says, and then proceeds to circle me, inspecting me. Again I feel totally exposed and awkward. I don't know what do do, just stand there? A few minuets pass then she looks up at me.

"Lovely. Xenia, Melinda and Taylor have done an excellent job." She prods my shoulders with her forefinger. "Yes, you are going to look great." She smiles and pats my cheek gently. I decide that Portia isn't that bad. "Would you like something to eat?" She asks.

"Yes, please." I say. She passes me a robe and I pull it on gratefully and she leads me through a door and into some sort of office. Portia gestures for me to sit down on one side of a desk, and she sits on the other. She presses a button just under the desk top and the table splits and presents yet another fantastic Capitol meal. I burn with anger, just for a second, thinking of the greed of the Capitol and the hunger felt by the Districts. I'm glad Portia doesn't notice my expression. At least I don't think she does.

"So Peeta, I suppose you are wondering what you will be wearing at the Opening Ceremony." She says, and a smiles forms at the corner of her lips and I see a twinkle in her eye. I get the impression that she takes great pride in her work.

I laugh a little bit. "I have, yes."

"Cinna and I have something a little different planned, you and Katniss are going to look fabulous." She answers.

"So, am I being a coal miner, or the coal?" I ask, remembering more past outfits and thinking that I will be wearing some of the same.

"You're going to be the fire." She winks and tells me to eat up.

The fire? What does she mean? Although I feel comfortable around Portia, I am not comfortable with what I think she is suggesting. I quietly finish my meal and then Portia leads me back through the white room. We enter into a red room made of what looks like velvet, covering the walls, the sofas.

A few hours later, Portia has applied a thin layer of make-up to my face. She has dressed me a black unitard that's covers me completely from ankle to neck and boots made of the same material. Plus there is a black headdress on my head. The main attraction of the outfit is a flowing orange, yellow and red cape. I am not focusing on the outfit, I am focusing on the fact that Portia told me she was going to set me alight. She keeps reminding me that it's just some synthetic stuff that her and Cinna came up with. I'm not afraid of fire, but after the years of burns from working the the bakery, being set alight didn't really interest me. And Katniss? Her imminent barbecuing worried me further.

My suspicions are confirmed when I see Katniss in an almost identical outfit to my own when Portia, my prep team and I meet them. Then we are taken into an area filled with tributes, chariots and horses. Portia and Katniss' stylist, Cinna, lead us to our chariot. It has two black horses reined to it, they match the colour of our outfit perfectly. Our stylists move off to discuss something and Katniss and I are left to stand in the chariot. I don't like the silence, but like the last 11 years, I find it hard to start a conversation with her. But she doesn't have any problem at all.

"What do you think?" I hear her whisper, so I turn to look at her. "About the fire?" I look into her eyes, then turn away and grit my teeth.

"I'll rip off your cape if you'll rip off mine." I say.

"Deal." she says. "I know we promised Haymitch we'd do exactly what they said, but I don't think he considered this angle." Haymitch has been pretty useless and illusive since we spoke to him on the train.

"Where is Haymitch, anyway? Isn't he supposed to protect us from this kind of thing?" I say. I see Katniss roll her grey eyes out of the corner of my eye.

"With all that alcohol in him, it's probably not advisable to have him around an open flame." She says. I try not to laugh at first, but when she sees me smirk, she laughs. So I got ahead and laugh with her. I notice that her laugh is just as beautiful as her singing voice.

Then, we are halted by the opening music beginning. A set of huge doors opens onto the Capitol, the streets lined with its people. In about twenty minuets, Katniss and I will be at the City Circle after the chariot ride through the streets. Then we will be taken into the Training Centre which will contain us until the Games begin. I realise that I haven't really thought about the Games since this morning. About my sure death in just a few days. I wonder about it for a second, but I really don't care right now. Right now, I am concerned because Cinna is approaching us with a lighted torch.

"Here we go then," he says, and before we can reply he leans over and sets Katniss' cape on fire. I turn my head to watch Katniss burn to death, but she doesn't. She gasps and then smiles. Cinna then lights my cape. I feel a tickling sensation lick my back. Cinna sighs. "It works." He places a hand under Katniss' chin, I feel somewhat jealous, but I push the feeling down. "Remember, heads high. Smiles. They're going to love you!"

Cinna jumps down from the chariot and wanders off to join Portia, he pauses and turns. He's shouting something, but the opening music is drowning his voice.

"What's he saying?" I ask Katniss. I take my first proper look at her with the flames. The flames light up her face, making her radiate the beauty she already had in my eyes. I look back down at Cinna, I see the gestures he is making with his hands. I feel butterflies in my stomach, but I say it before I can stop myself. "I think he said for us to hold hands," I say. I take her hand in mine and feel her fingers slip between mine. A shiver runs through my body.

Katniss and I turn to Cinna, he nods and then leaves. Then, we are being pulled through the doors by our horses.

At first I can see citizens of the Capitol gasp and point as they see our figures, engulfed in flames. Then they start cheering. "District Twelve!" is called from every side. All focus is taken from the other 22 tributes and then it's just Katniss and I that they focus on. There are huge screens, dominated by shots of us, Katniss and I. Looking amazing. I hesitate, I remember how Katniss was disgusted by my waving at the Capitol on the train, but when I see her wave the hand she is not holding mine with, I go ahead and wave too. Roses, kisses and our names are thrown at us. Portia and Cinna were right, they crowd loves us. I can only really attribute that our dazzling outfits.

Maybe Katniss does stand a chance, she's already got the citizens of the Capitol on her side, so she has sponsors on her side. I thank our stylists for their excellent job in my head and continue smiling and waving.

We finally reach the City Circle, and then I realise the numbness in my hand. Katniss has held onto so tightly, all the blood has rushed from it. She sees me inspecting my fingers too and loosens her grasp. The words tumble from my lips, "No, don't let go of me," I say. I look into her Seam eyes. "Please. I might fall out of this thing."

"Okay," she says.

As the twelve chariots pull up in front of the presidents mansion, I notice the other tributes. District 1, who have been spray painted sliver and covered in glittering jewels. District 4, wearing shimmering blue cloaks with sandy suits underneath. Although they all look amazing, none of them look as amazing as us. President Snow walks out onto the balcony of his mansion and beings speaking. I don't really register what he's saying. All my focus is on the girl who keeps appearing on screen. The girl on fire.

The chariot jolts and we are taken into the Training Centre, the doors close behind us and the screaming of the crowd is muffled. I only get to take one breath then Katniss' and my stylists and prep teams engulf us. They pat me on the back and kiss Katniss on the cheek. We've definitely been given an edge by our performance in the Opening Ceremony. I notice that the other tributes are throwing dirty looks in our direction. I laugh to myself because I know that it's so ridiculous. Them hating us just because we looked good. After all, it's not all about sponsors in the Arena. Some of them have been throwing spears and knives since they were toddlers, all I can do is frost a cake.

Cinna and Portia help us down from the chariot and Portia extinguishes us. I feel Katniss taking her hand from mine. I massage my fingers because they are pretty numb.

"Thanks for keeping hold of me. I was getting a little shaky there." I say nervously.

"It didn't show," she says, I smile a little. "I'm sure no one noticed."

"I'm sure they didn't notice anything but you. You should wear flames more often," I say. "They suit you." I smile because I am embarrassed. I am not sure if I should look away or not, so I just keep looking at her. I cannot really read her expression, but my heart almost stops when she leans up and kisses me on my cheek.


	7. Chapter 6

_**I'd just like to let you know, although it will probably take a year or so, I do intend to write Catching Fire and Mockingjay from Peeta's perspective also. I have a lot of ideas and I think I can do it, for now, enjoy chapter 6! (This one is pretty long!)**_

It takes me a few moments to pull myself out of a stupor and follow Katniss to the elevator where Effie is waiting for us. The only thing I have running through my mind for the entire elevator trip is Katniss, Katniss and her lips against my jaw. I breathe deeply, struggling to slow my heart which is pounding against my rib cage. I also try to keep my breathing quiet as in the elevator Katniss and I are standing only a few feet away, and I'm sure she'll notice my heavy breaths. I try and focus on the floor, which is made of crystal like the rest of the elevator. You can see the people below on the ground floor shrinking, getting smaller and more distant. I take a quick glance at Katniss, she honestly looks beautiful and it takes all my will power to look away again, as the doors of the elevator are opening.

Effie is babbling on about sponsors or something. I only notice her ramblings when she says something completely stupid.

"I said, 'Well, if you put enough pressure on coal it turns to pearls!'" This is nonsense. I may not be a coal miner, but even I know this is not true. Effie is beaming at Katniss and me so I try and look supportive of this claim, even though I really have no idea what she is on about. "Unfortunately, I can't seal the sponsor deals for you. Only Haymitch can do that," continues Effie. "But don't worry; I'll get him to the table at gunpoint if necessary." I grin a little to myself at the mental image forming in my head of Effie holding a gun to Haymitch's back. I'm surprised that I can really see Effie in this was, but I know that she will do whatever is needed to keep her reputation up and her schedule running smoothly.

Effie leads Katniss and me to our quarters. I watch Katniss step into her room with a look of awe on her face, and then the door closes. I sigh and almost walk straight into Cinna. He's looking inquisitively at me and I step back. "I'll take Peeta to his room Effie." He smiles at her and gestures for me to follow him. I walk slightly behind him and think about what Cinna may have just seen in my eyes as I watched Katniss enter her room. Because at that moment I was thinking about the kiss again, well, when she kissed me on the jaw. I could feel my cheeks burning up and my heart beat was rising up again, but the possibility that Cinna noticed all of this has set my heart racing even further.

When Cinna pushes open a door and steps inside it, it's not a room we enter into. There is a flight of stairs leading upwards. "Where does this go?" I ask Cinna.

"To the roof, it's nice up there, come on." He starts ascending and I follow. The roof is wonderful, the lights of the Capitol twinkle like thousands of tiny suns in the dusk. They air is fresh and cool, and blows my hair into my face as it's quite strong. I let the breeze fill my lungs and take time letting it out again. There's a faint tinkling sound and I turn to see a sort of garden. Little potted plants and tree's covered in hundreds of wind chimes swaying and singing their sweet tune. I cross to the garden and run my fingers through the leaves of a willow tree. I never knew why face him. He's unlike most of the Capitol citizens, he has not had shapes implanted under his skin, dyed his hair pink or been riddled with tattoo's. Like Cinna, a strange piece of natural sticking out of a place such as the Capitol, the small garden on this roof is nice. Katniss and Gale disappeared into the woods for entire days, but now I know. Nature gives you a sense of freedom and hope even in the most hopeless of times.

Cinna places a hand on my shoulder, I turn to face him and the only unnatural thing is the golden eye-liner. I see the creases on his forehead. He is concentrating hard on me, trying to read my thoughts through my expression. I try to wipe my face of any emotion but I've always been bad at that.

"Peeta, I may just be a stranger to you, but I'm good at keeping secrets." He says softly. I look at my feet and don't say anything; I just listen to the wind and hope it carries me away with it. Away from Cinna and his questions and assumptions. Away from the Capitol and the Hunger Games. But no, I cannot leave here, not with Katniss to look after. She needs me, my protection. Maybe Cinna can help; I suppose I trust him more than any other Capitol citizen purely because he does not look like them. He hasn't given into their fashions and stupid ideas.

Whatever way I look at it, Cinna knows. He suspects my love for Katniss and whatever happens in the arena will probably confirm it, so there's no point holding it in much longer. Cinna is Katniss' stylist, maybe he can figure her out, let me know how I can play it. The best way to keep her safe, alive and how to get her home to her family, to District 12, to Gale. Although I have resented the idea of her and Gale together for years, I know she is happy with him. She may not know it now, but one day she will love him because when you know someone that well and enjoy their company you can do nothing but.

"I…" I only manage that single word before I slump to the ground under the tree. My legs continue shaking even after they are no longer supporting my weight. Cinna sets himself down beside me and doesn't talk, he just waits for my to compose my feelings, he waits for me to tell him.

"I love Katniss, Cinna. I have for years now and that's why…" I trail off again, but picking up my words at the thought of what would happen if I do not finish. "That's why I must die in the arena, so she can go home." I speak quite fast, but Cinna picks up my every word. "I don't know how I am going to do it, keep her alive. But I will do whatever it takes because not only do I want her to stay alive, but there are people at home who want her alive too. No one will dwell on my death, but they will grieve her and I won't be the one responsible for that." I can't really say much else because I don't want to go into detail about Gale, Katniss' family, how they have already grieved the death of their fathers and husbands.

"You are very brave, Peeta. I know that you will make the right decision." Says Cinna.

"But what is the right decision? How do I die in order to save her, how I keep her safe when there will be 22 people trying to kill her?" I burst out, my temper rising. Cinna doesn't understand how confused and frustrated I am. I'm sat here devising my own death and he's sat there talking about decisions and right and wrong. There's only one thing wrong here and it's the Capitol, and it's stupid Games.

"I want to help you," Says Cinna. "I will help you, but I need some time to think of something too."

I sigh and stand up and walk out of the garden, over to the edge of the roof. I look down to see the streets lined with Capitol people, dancing and celebrating after the Opening Ceremony. I lean over the side and see how high up I am. "Don't people just... jump?" I ask Cinna who has positioned himself next to me.

"To my knowledge, no one has ever tried. Even so, you can't." He says simply. It surprises me that no one has ever tried, it seems like such a simple solution.

"Why can't you jump?" I ask.

"There is a force field, it just throws you back onto the roof." He stretches his fingers out over the roof until there is a sharp buzzing sound and his hand is trusted back. Of course, the Capitol would never let a Tribute's death be of their own decision and not filmed for all of the citizens of Panem to see. I hear Cinna exhale deeply. "Come on Peeta. Go change into something else and then go to the Dining room for dinner." I don't object, I just follow him down the stairs in silence and let him usher me into my room before quietly closing the door. At first I just pass the bed and move straight to the window, already missing the fresh air on the roof and wanting to open the window. I push at it and examine the edges but it doesn't open. There's no latch, no way out. No way to escape the confines of my room. I sigh and sink onto the bed letting it cushion my fall. I lay there for a good 10 minuets or so before I pull myself up and change.

You can programme the wardrobe, design your own outfit from hundreds of selections of trousers and shirts. I pick some black trousers and grey shirt. The trousers are uncomfortably tight but I feel that I have taken long enough. I check a few doors until I find the dining room. Cinna, Portia and Effie smile up at me from the table.

"We'll just wait for Katniss, and then we will begin our meal." Says Effie, standing up and placing a hand on my back, pushing me into a chair.

I resist and turn to Cinna. "I miss the fresh air." Is all I say. He grins at me and pushes open some doors onto a balcony. I gratefully step out into the air and both Cinna and Portia join me. Effie watches us quizzically for a while.

"I'll go get Katniss." She trills and then exits. She's always so happy, how is she always so happy?

Cinna and Portia talk quietly about the days event and I just stare out at the sunset and block out the screaming in my head. When I next turn around Katniss is entering the room with Effie following behind. To my surprise my heart rate doesn't speed up when she looks at me and smiles. It slows down and relaxes. I don't have a clue why but it's a relief not to have to worry about looking as if I've run a mile. We all sit around the table and Effie says a few things about how amazing Cinna, Portia, Katniss and I were today whilst we are served wine. I've never drank alcohol before and I don't intend to start now so I stick to water.

Within a few minuets Haymitch walks into the room. He seems a lot less drunk than I have ever seen him before and decently groomed and dressed. He sits down and accepts wine from the young man dressed in white who served us before. Then the food begins arriving, bought to us by three or four attendants who silently bring us our meal. My taste buds are dry so I don't really taste the food. Some kind of soup, a plate of roast beef with vegetables and a platter of cheese and grapes. I make disconnected comments about the opening ceremony.

"Katniss looked so beautiful!" Says Portia.

"Yes, she did." I say and look in her direction but she's scoffing cheese and obviously didn't hear my comment. Cinna smiles sadly at me and I try not to say much else for the rest of the meal. Katniss finally talks when desserts bought onto the table. One of the servers puts a beautiful cake on the table and lights it. It's burns brightly then the fire dies.

"What makes it burn? It is alcohol?" She asks the server who is leaning back to stand by the wall again. "That's the last thing I wan- Oh! I know you!" The server is a girl with dark red hair and white skin. She shakes her head and the fear in her eyes is obvious as she backs away from the table as fast as she can. Katniss just looks confused and a little scared herself.

"Don't be ridiculous, Katniss. How could you possibly know an Avox?" snaps Effie. "The very thought."

"What's an Avox?" Asks Katniss, I don't know what an Avox is either.

"Someone who committed a crime. They cut her tongue so she can't speak," cuts in Haymitch. "She's probably a traitor of some sort. Not likely you'd know her." A traitor? A traitor of the Capitol?

"And even if you did, you're not to speak to one unless to give an order," says Effie. "Of course, you don't really know her." But the doubt in Katniss' eyes is clear. She does know her, and it's not for a good reason.

"No, I guess not, I just-" Katniss trails off. I hear the pain in her voice and I can't stand it. I have to say something to remove the tension.

I snap my fingers and say, "Delly Cartwright. That's who it is. I kept thinking she looked familiar as well. Then I realised she's a dead ringer for Delly." The girl looks nothing like Delly, who was a childhood friend of mine. Her parents own the shoe shop back in District 12, and as we both are merchant children, we played together when we were younger. We are still friends but ina wider group at school. Delly is almost the opposite to this girl though, with her blonde hair and wide shoulders.

I can hear the relief in her voice as she says, "Of course, that's who I was thinking of. It must be the hair." she says.

"Something about the eyes, too," I say. You can feel the tension diminish as everyone around the table relaxes.

"Oh, well. If that's all it is," says Cinna. "And yes, the cake has spirits, but all the all the alcohol has burned off. I ordered it specially in honour of your fiery début."

The cake is consumed and we all make our way into a sitting room to watch the replay of the opening ceremonies. Everyone 'Oooh's' and Ahhh's' at us even though they have seen it all before. "Whose idea was the hand holding?" asks Haymitch. I tune out the rest of the conversation at the thought of Katniss' fingers entwined with mine, our beings connected.

"Tomorrow morning is the first training session. Meet me for breakfast and I'll tell you exactly how I want you to play it. Now get some sleep while the grown-ups talk." Says Haymitch to Katniss and myself. We both leave Haymitch, Portia, Cinna and Effie in the room and make our way down the corridor. I am still curious about the Avox girl, and who she was and how Katniss knew her. So, when we reach Katniss' door I lean against the frame.

"So, Delly Cartwright. Imagine finding her lookalike here." I say. She is obviously hesitant to tell me so I add, "Have you been on the roof yet?" She shakes her head slightly. "Cinna showed me. You can practically see the whole city. The wind's a bit loud, though." It is true, at times on the roof I found I had to strain to listen to Cinna as we are 12 stories above the ground. No one will hear her tell me whatever is bothering her.

"Can we just go up?" She asks.

"Sure, come on." I reply. We both climb the stairs and emerge onto the roof. I turn and see a look on her face, I can't really read her expression but it's something between admiration, and disgust. We both cross to the railing at the edge of the roof and look down onto the dancing figures in the streets."I asked Cinna why they let us up here. Weren't they worried that some of the tributes might decide to jump right over the side." I say.

"What'd he say?" Katniss asks, there's a tone of longing in her voice, so I lean a little more protectively over the rail even though I know she can't jump over it.

"You can't," I reply, then I do what Cinna did and reach into the empty air until a small shock sends my hand backwards. "Some kind of electric field throws you back on the roof."

"Always worried about our safety," says Katniss. I watch her as her eyes glide over the rooftop. "Do you think they're watching us now?"

"Maybe," I sigh a little. "Come see the garden." I take her over to the garden but I avoid taking her down the little pathway where I cried and told Cinna about my feelings for her. I remember the reason I bough Katniss up here, so I turn to look at her. She's looking at a small blossom on a tree.

"We were hunting in the woods one day. Hidden, waiting for game," she says quietly.

"You and your father?" I whisper back, hoping it is.

"No, my friend Gale," She replies, my chest tightens at his name but she continues. "Suddenly all the birds stopped singing at once. Except one. As if it were giving a warning call. And then we saw her. I'm sure it was the same girl. A boy was with her. Their clothes were tattered. They had dark circles under their eyes from no sleep. They were running as if their lives depended on it," I'm drawn in by her story and the background of the girl who seems so quiet and innocent.

"The hovercraft appeared out of nowhere. I mean, one moment the sky was empty and the next it was there. It didn't make a sound, but they saw it. A net dropped down on the girl and carried her up, fast, so fast like the elevator. They shot some sort of spear through the boy. It was attached to a cable and they hauled him up as well. But I'm certain he was dead. We heard the girl scream once. The boys name, I think. Then it was gone, the hovercraft. Vanished into thin air. And the birds began to sing again, as if nothing had happened."

"Did they see you?" I ask.

"I don't know. We were under a shelf of rock," she replies, then she just stares at the blossom in her palm. Her fingers shake slightly.

"You're shivering." I say. I remove my jacket and slip it over her shoulders. At first it seems as if she is going to reject my jacket, but then she accepts it.

"They were from here?" I ask as I button up the jacket around her. She nods stiffly. "Where do you suppose they were going?" I continue.

"I don't know that," She says. "And I don't know why they would leave here."

I think briefly of the Games and the death we are slated for and the sick twistedness of it all. Before I can stop myself the words escape my lips too loudly. "I'd leave here." I turn my head nervously and think of what to say. "I'd go home now if they let me. But you have to admit, the foods prime." I doubt they are listening in on our conversation but I am still aware they might be. I feel the cold air of the roof run down my back.

"Its getting chilly. We better go in," I say, so we both walk to the door leading back to our quarters. It has a dome enclosing it and we step inside. Then I feel like striking up another conversation and I know exactly who I want to ask Katniss about. "Your friend Gale. He's the one who took your sister away at the reaping?" I ask. Of course I know who Gale is, I'm just curious.

"Yes. Do you know him?" She asks.

"Not really. I hear the girls talk about him a lot. I thought he was your cousin or something. You favour each other." I reply, I'm surprised my tone isn't stiff or anything. I hate the idea of Katniss and Gale together, but I feel bad for mentioning the girls who gossip about his good looks. I suppose I intended to make her jealous or something but she doesn't sound any different.

"No, were not related." Is all she says, so I just nod.

"Did he come to say good-bye to you?" I add. Already knowing the answer.

"Yes," I can see her looking at me out if the corner of my eyes, but I don't return the look. "So did your father. He brought me cookies." I raise my eyebrows, I didn't know my father had gone to see her and I'm not too sure about my feelings about it. I'll work them out later.

"Well, he likes you and your sister. I think he wishes he had a daughter instead of a houseful of boys." I say, this is true. Often my father would mention Prim or Katniss and how they looked like their mother in different ways. That he wonders what it would be like to have a daughter. "He knew your mother when they were kids." I say.

"Oh, yes. She grew up in town." says Katniss. I doubt my brothers, myself or my father have been mentioned in her house as much as her family has been in mine. But I can't continue the conversation because we are at the door to Katniss' room. "See you in the morning then." She says, giving me back my jacket.

"See you." I says quietly then turn and walk down the corridor to my room.

I close the door behind me and lean on the frame a moment. I sigh and prepare for bed, having a quick shower and putting on some thick pyjamas. For a while I allow myself to think of home, and my father. I wonder if he has told my brothers about my feelings for Katniss yet, explained to them how I won't even try to come home. I hope he doesn't tell my mother though, but I know he won't. I fiddle with the hemp bracelet that Ben gave me and eventually fall asleep.


	8. Chapter 7

I wake quite early the next day. My sleep was surprisingly undisturbed. I decide to go up to the roof again, so I just find some soft plimsolls and sneak into the hall. I cross to the door leading to the roof and pull the handle, but it's locked. I fiddle with the handle for a moment, then hunch my shoulders and return to my room. I wonder if the door was purposely locked after Katniss and my disappearance, I just hope they didn't hear our conversation. I lie down on my bed for about half an hour, just thinking of the day ahead. The tributes have a few days to train using weapons and pick up a few survival skills for the arena. After training, we are slated to perform in front of the Gamemakers. It's not only this that makes me nervous, but meeting the other tributes who will be there too. When I finally drag myself up to have a shower it's lighter outside and I wonder when I should be in the dining room.

I hurry myself and jump in the shower, setting the buttons to warm and allowing a strong smelling soap to engulf me. It smells of the pine trees in the woods. I've never been in the woods, but a few times I hid nearby to watch Katniss return from her hunting trips. I only did this because as she crawled under the gap in the fence, she would sometimes smile and I loved her smile. When I'm out of the shower I find an outfit laid out on the bed. There is a pair of uncomfortably tight black trousers, a long sleeved burgundy tunic and some leather shoes. Then there's a knock on the door and Haymitch pokes his head round the side. "Hurry up Peeta." he says irritably. I nod and follow him out the door to the dining room.

Katniss is already sat eating her breakfast. I smile at her and she nods back, whilst Haymitch greets the room. I dish myself up a large meal, consisting of a variety of muffins, fruit and fried food. There isn't much talking, everyone just eats their food. I think about the day ahead. Training, where we have some time to pick up some skills that will be useful in the arena. Throwing a spear, building a shelter.

I fill my plate up a couple of times, so does Haymitch but Katniss only has one portion. She's just looking unhappily at the food laid out in front of her and I try and catch her eye. Then Haymitch leans his elbows down on the table and takes a long look at the both of us.

"So, let's get down to business. Training. First off, if you like, I'll coach you separately. Decide now." he says.

"Why would you coach us separately?" asks Katniss.

"Say if you had a secret skill you might not want the other to know about," replies Haymitch. I try and hold back a laugh and catch eyes with Katniss.

"I don't have any secret skills," I say. "And I already know what yours is, right? I mean, I've eaten enough of your squirrels."

She looks mildly surprised and says, "You can coach us together," I nod in agreement.

"All right, so give me some idea of what you can do." says Haymitch.

"I can't do anything," I say. "Unless you count baking bread." This is all I can do, and ice cakes.

"Sorry, I don't. Katniss. I already know you're handy with a knife." says Haymitch, leaning back in his chair and looking at Katniss expectantly.

"Not really. But I can hunt. With a bow and arrow." she says in reply.

"And you're good?" asks Haymitch.

"I'm all right." she says.

All right? She's been single handily feeding her whole family since her father died. She brings home entire deer, and shoots each squirrel squarely in the eye. I've never seen her shoot, but I know she does the majority of the shooting, not Gale.

"She's excellent," I say. "My father buys her squirrels. He always comments on how the arrows never pierce the body. She hits everyone in the eye. It's the same with the rabbits she sells the butcher. She can even bring down deer." I have to hold back the blush in my cheeks and I try not to look at Katniss until she is talking to me again.

"What are you doing?" she asks.

"What are you doing? If he's going to help you, he has to know what you're capable of. Don't underrate yourself." I say, because Katniss is not to be underrated.

She seems a little cut up about my reply. "What about you? I've seen you in the market. You can lift fifty-kilo bags of flour," she snaps back. "Tell him that. That's not nothing." This is true, but hardly useful.

"Yes, and I'm sure the arena will be full of bags of flour for me to chuck at people. It's not like being able to use a weapon. You know it isn't." I reply, just as irritably as she did.

"He can wrestle," she tells Haymitch. "He came second in our school competition last year, only after his brother." I remember that day; my brother spent the rest of the week boasting about his success over me. It's unfair, I know, but I take my anger at this out on Katniss.

"What use is that? How many times have you seen someone wrestle someone to death?" I say in disgust.

"There's always hand-to-hand combat. All you need to do is come up with a knife, and you'll at least stand a chance. If I get jumped, I'm dead!" she protests. I know this argument is stupid but still I find myself retaliating.

"But you won't be! You'll be living up in some tree eating raw squirrels and picking people off with arrows. You know what my mother said to me when she came to say goodbye, as if to cheer me? She says maybe District Twelve will finally have a winner. Then I realized, she didn't mean me, she meant you!" The words escape my mouth before I can stop myself. I almost instantly regret letting them slip past my lips.

"Oh, she meant you," Katniss says simply.

I look up at her slowly, "She said, 'She's a survivor that on.' _She_ is," I say quietly. I find myself trying to hold back tears, avoiding Katniss' gaze.

"But only because someone helped me." she says. I know what she's talking about, the bread I threw to her on that day years ago. I see the bread roll she is holding awkwardly in her hands and remember the look on her face, and my longing to change it.

As a young boy, willing to save her life even though she was a stranger. Loving her even though I'd never spoken to her. Knowing her in ways I couldn't explain.

"People will help you in the arena. They'll be tripping over each other to sponsor you." I shrug, still not completely over my outburst but softening my voice.

"No more than you." She replies. I honestly can't understand how she could say that. No one will want to sponsor me; I'll try my hardest to get them to sponsor her. Keep her alive, in turn keeping me happy, until I die.

Before I can prevent myself I roll my eyes and turn to Haymitch, "She has no idea. The effect she can have." I avert my eyes from Katniss and run my nail along the grain of the wooden table. The silence following my words is painful. All I can think of is how she took that comment; it could just as easily be taken as an insult. Finally Haymitch decides to break the silence.

"Well, then. Well, well, well. Katniss, there's no guarantee there'll be bows and arrows in the arena, but during your private training session with the Gamemakers, show them what you can do. Until then, stay clear of the archery. Are you any good at trapping?"

"I know a few basic snares." she says.

"That may be significant in terms of food," says Haymitch. "And Peeta, she's right, never underestimate strength in the arena. Very often, physical power tilts the advantage to a player. In the Training Centre, they will have weights, but don't reveal how much you can lift in front of the other tributes. The plans the same for both of you. You go to group training. Spend the time trying to learn something you don't know. Throw a spear. Swing a mace. Learn to tie a decent knot. Save showing what you're best at until your private sessions. Are we clear? Says Haymitch. I just nod and so does Katniss.

"One last thing. In public, I want you by each other's side every minute, "Both Katniss and I lean forward, making objections, but Haymitch slams his hand on the table. "Every minute! It's not open for discussion! You agreed to do as I said! You will be together, you will appear amiable to each other. Now get out. Meet Effie at the elevator at ten for training."

I don't think sending Katniss and I into the arena as a couple is a good idea, because for her to stay alive, I must die and being with her will make things 100 times harder. Katniss storms back to her room and I hear the door slam, it hurts.

I go into my room and close the door gently behind me. I sit on a plush arm chair in the corner of the room till a few minutes to ten. Thinking.

I sit and close my eyes, remembering one during the summer two years ago. It was a warm day and everyone was fighting over spots in the shade. A couple of friends and I had found shade under a tree on the playing field and were just talking quietly. I noticed Katniss sat alone under a similar tree on the other side of the field. I watched her briefly, wrapped in her own thoughts. Whilst I was wrapped I my own, my friend Toby had noticed.

"Peeta has his eye on a seam girl!" he mocked. I didn't like him calling her a seam girl. The seam is the area of district 12 where the coal miners live, the poor part of the district. I stuck with the kids from the merchant class just because they were who I'd grown up with, and I was familiar with them. When others judge people because of the family they were born into, it's not fair.

Then Delly, a girl who I've been close with for years, piped up.

"Toby, he was just looking. Don't be ridiculous." She said, with a smile to me. I never assumed anything of that smile. I just thought that she was being herself, a smiley, bubbly girl. But maybe, just maybe, she had finally worked out why I glanced at the girl with the braid so often.

I drag myself out of the chair and meet up with Effie and Katniss at the elevator. We descend more than 12 floors, meaning that the training rooms are underground. When the doors of the elevator open onto a huge gymnasium, I have to catch my breath. This is the first time I get a good look at my competitors, and while most of them don't look too threatening, there are one or two that I don't like the look of. Someone pins a small piece of cloth to my back, and I see that Katniss has one the same, it just has the number _12_ on it. All the tributes are gathered in a tense circle and when we join an athletic woman, who introduces herself as Atala, steps up and explains the training protocol to us. Experts in each skill will remain at their stations. We will be free to travel from area to area as we choose, per our mentors instructions. Some of the stations teach survival skills, others fighting techniques. We are forbidden to engage in any combative exercise with another tribute. There are assistants on hand if we want to practice with a partner.

Then Atala begins reading down the list of different stations. I decide I'd like to try knife skills and camouflage. In a way, I am kind of looking forward to the training. I've always been eager to learn new things, and being stuck doing the same thing for years can become dull. Even though I've been stuck doing the same thing for so long, I still love baking. Unfortunately, it won't help me in the arena. Atala dismisses us and the other tributes disperse. I turn and see Katniss watching the tributes from District 2 picking up spears with such familiarity. I nudge her shoulder and she jumps slightly.

"Where would you like to start?" I ask her.

"Suppose we tie some knots." She replies after another glance at the tributes from 2.

"Right you are." I say and follow her to the empty station. The trainer seems pleased to have someone to teach, my bet is this station isn't one of the most popular. Katniss easily sets up some simple snares I suppose she learnt from Gale. I struggle to tie anything and just watch her as she quickly gets lost in the rope between her fingers. When the trainer sees that she already has some knowledge, he enthusiastically shows us both a trap that will leave a human competitor dangling by the leg. We both practise this for a full hour until we can do it with our eyes closed, then I convince Katniss to go to the camouflage station.

I quickly find myself loading my arm with the mud, clay, berry juices and other things. I'd only ever had one small set of paints, I normal just work with charcoal from the fire and use cheap paper. I got my paint set for my 13th birthday and I spent days locked in my room painting the apple tree outside my window, the people in the market and Katniss. I notice Katniss watching me as I paint my arm into a section of tree bark.

"I do the cakes." I tell her. She's distracted and watching the boy from 2 throwing spears. This kind of irritates me, she seems to only show interest in him.

"The cakes? What cakes?" she says.

"At home. The iced ones, for the bakery." I say, then she finally shows some interest in my work, observing my arm.

"It's lovely. If only you could frost someone to death." she replies with a sarcastic smile. Her tone is upsetting me a bit and for the second time today I get on the defensive.

"Don't be so superior," then I stop myself from saying what I had planned. "You can never tell what you'll find in the arena. Say it's actually a gigantic cake-" then Katniss cuts in.

"Say we move on," she says. I sigh and wash my arm, letting the colours swirl down the drain with the water and longing for her to care.

We spend the next three days in almost complete silence, sometimes complimenting each other on a move during hand to hand combat or knife skills. Katniss easily by passes the edible plants station, and I pick up a few tricks with a spear. The only time we engage in any decent conversation is whilst we eat lunch. Dinner and breakfast are served to us by the Avox's on our floor, but for lunch carts, table and chairs are bought into the training rooms. The only reason she eats and talks with me is because Haymitch has told us too, otherwise she'd sit alone like she always did in school. The Careers pull a few tables together each day, and mutter quietly, loading their plates with food and blocking out the others.

I've never been great at talking to girls, the only one I found smooth conversation with was Delly. Even my mother was difficult to talk to. But now, in our situation, talking with Katniss is almost impossible. One lunch time I find myself describing the different types of bread to her, seeing as it's basically the only thing I have any expertise in. Each district has their own specific type of bread. It symbolises their principle industry and I find the different tastes, shapes and textures interesting, and I am surprised to see Katniss is also mildly interested.

"And there you have it," I say, scooping the bread back into the basket after I have finished.

"You certainly know a lot," she says.

"Only about bread," I says, then remembering Haymitch's orders. "OK, now laugh as if I've said something funny."

When we both laugh we ignore the stares from the others around us.

"All right, I'll keep smiling pleasantly and you talk," I say. I fell as if I am mocking Haymitch a bit, but either way, I get to talk and spend time with Katniss.

"Did I ever tell you about the time I was chased by a bear?" she asks.

"No, but it sounds fascinating." I say, and listen carefully to her story. It is quite funny really, she was defending her rights to a beehive when a black bear was also trying to claim it. I genuinely enjoy her story and wish I had a story of my own to tell.

One day we a practising our spear throwing when I notice a young girl, who I think is from 11, watching us.

"I think we have a shadow," I lean over and say to Katniss. She throws her spear and then turns to see the girl, peering at us. She's very small, probably the same ages as Katniss' sister, Prim. She has dark skin and huge brown eyes and looks as if she's about to take flight, with her arms slightly extended. I remember watching her reaping, and try to remember her name too.

"I think her name's Rue," I say softly. It's terrible, such a delicate name, such a delicate child. The Capitol has sentenced her to her death.

"What can we do about it?" she asks harshly. I don't understand why she always has to talk to me this way. And finally it occurs to me, she doesn't like me. I've been forced upon her by Haymitch, and the Games. I'm a stranger who is begging for her attention, but she doesn't want to be with me.

"Nothing to do," I say. "Just making conversation."

After another painful dinner with Haymitch and Effie asking us too many questions I hasten to escape the room. I walk with Katniss down the corridor to our rooms.

"Someone ought to get Haymitch a drink," I mumble as he just spent half an hour asking me over and over again how far I threw a spear. She laughs a little, then stops herself and puts on a serious expression.

"Don't. Don't let's pretend when there's no one around." she says. The only thing is, I'm not pretending.

"All right, Katniss." I say with a yawn, and shut myself in my room, falling asleep immediately. The training has taken it out of me, and I have nothing to think about. It's simple, Katniss has made it clear, she's uninterested.

The next day we are called out one by one after lunch for our private sessions with the Gamemakers. District by district, first the boy, then the girl tribute. As usual, District 12 is slated to go last. We linger in the dining room, unsure where else to go. No one comes back once they have left. The room gets quieter and quieter. I'm nervous, as I'm not too sure the Gamemakers will be impressed by me throwing around weights. I'm less concerned about Katniss, I know she's good at shooting arrows. I'm not sure how good, but judging by the arrows in the squirrels eyes, she's not bad at all.

When it;s my turn to leave, Katniss takes notice of me.

"Remember what Haymitch said about being sure to throw the weights," she says. I nod.

"Thanks. I will," I say. "And you... shoot straight." she nods in reply and I enter the room.

I know almost straight away there is a problem. The Gamemakers are singing and have their arms over each others shoulders. They've been here, watched 22 others and now, they are bored. I cross to the weights with gritted teeth, pick up a thirty-kilo weight, planning to gradually increase the weight I lift.

I throw the weight about 5 metres to my left, then look up. One or two of the Gamemakers are watching me, but the majority are drinking and eating. Twenty or so men and women dressed in deep purple robes. They are in an elevated stand above the gymnasium. Seneca Crane, the head Gamemaker, has his arm around a man with a balding head, singing some kind of drinking song.

I pick up a fifty-kilo weight, toss it over my shoulders and run about 50 metres, then throw it quiet far, knocking over a shelf of knives.

I do this a few more times with forty and thirty-kilo weights, almost dropping one on my foot. Eventually, I am dismissed. There were a handful of Gamemakers watching by the time I finished. I stretch and leave the gymnasium, hoping that they will take more of an interest in the girl whose private session is next.


	9. Chapter 8

I get into the elevator and press the number _12_. I am lifted up into the air and I slump against the wall for the duration of the trip. I am aching from the weightlifting, because I hadn't practised with the weights during training and I didn't warm up. I am also dizzy because my mind is whirring with hope for Katniss, I beg in my mind for the Gamemakers to pay more attention to her than they did to me. When the elevator doors open, I am ushered into the sitting room by Effie. Cinna and Portia look up at me whilst Haymitch takes a swig from a bottle, all noticing my flushed face.

"I'm sure you did the best you could, Peeta! We'll wait for Katniss, then we can discuss your efforts." says Effie, with a huge smile on her face. I smile weakly back and sit on the sofa, stretching my legs out on the table. Effie frowns at my feet on the clean glass, but Haymitch strikes up a conversation with her. I sit quietly for about ten minuets before I hear the beep of the elevator. I spring up and stride to the door, everyone calls for Katniss, letting her know where we are. She walks straight past the sitting room, her braid flying behind her as she slams her door and I hear the lock click.

Effie and Haymitch walk past me, heading for Katniss' door.

"Just leave her," says Cinna calmly. "At least let her calm down a little." But Haymitch ignore him and walks down the corridor. Effie hesitates and then follows him at a slight trot in her heels. I sigh and slump back on the sofa and Cinna focuses on me with concerned eyes. I shrug and push the hair out of my eyes, wondering what had caused Katniss to lock herself in her room. Did the Gamemakers ignore her? Did she do something wrong? All these questions are buzzing around inside my head, and almost an hour passes when Effie taps my shoulder.

"Peeta, it's time for dinner." she says softly, it's nice to hear her talk normally for once. I nod and head into my room to check my reflection in the bathroom mirror. I comb my hair quickly, not really paying attention to my appearance. Then I shuffle to the dining room and sit down at the table.

Cinna and Portia are also there and I know they'll keep everyone at the table calm. I allow my mind to wonder for a while again, my stomach twisting at the thought of Katniss alone in her room, crying. I remember Gale at the reaping, stepping forward to pull Prim away from Katniss. I wish I had the authority, the friendship, the guts to go and comfort Katniss. I squeeze my eyelids shut and think of home. Where, even though I had less connection with Katniss, she was safe. Her family was safe, because now I know even they will struggle without her. Gale will feed her family whilst she is away, and if she doesn't come back... But I don't want to think like that.

I sit quietly with my soup in front of me, refusing to begin my meal until Katniss arrives. Effie huffs and decides to go and knock on Katniss' door and call her to the table. I look up too see Cinna's eyes fixated on me.

"Haymitch," he says, still focusing on me. "I'd like to talk to you and Peeta after dinner." he looks up then to see Haymitch slowly putting his spirit on the table, also staring me down.

"No." I say sharply.

Haymitch laughs out loud, retaining his normal expression and drinking from his bottle.

"I think we will talk after dinner, boy, whether you like it or not!" he says, then Katniss slips in the room and we all go silent. I don't even get to retaliate.

I turn my attention to Katniss as she slides into her seat, not talking to anyone, and starting on her soup.

The adults begin their normal chit-chat, but I try and catch her eye, and when I eventually do, I raise my eyebrow, asking her what had happened. She shakes her head slightly. I don't know if this is because she doesn't want me to know, doesn't want the adults to hear, doesn't want to discuss it now. I start to think whether I am just over thinking things when Haymitch jumps in.

"Okay, enough small talk – just how bad were you today?" he asks. I think of how badly it may have gone for Katniss, and decide I should go first.

"I don't know that it mattered. By the time I showed up, no one even bothered to look at me. They were singing some kind of drinking song. I think. So I threw around some heavy objects until they told me I could go." I say.

"And you, sweetheart?" Haymitch points to Katniss. I don't like him calling her that.

"I shot an arrow at the Gamemakers." she snaps. My chest tightens.

"You what?" Effie exclaims. I drop my fork.

"I shot an arrow at them. Not exactly at them. In their direction. It's like Peeta said, I was shooting and they were ignoring me and I just... I just lost my head, so I shot an arrow out of their stupid roast pig's mouth!" she says defiantly. My mouth drops open but I quickly close it, swallowing my emotions.

"And what did they say?" Cinna says.

"Nothing. Or I don't know. I walked out after that," she replies shortly. I refrain from burying my face in my hands, or reaching across the table and taking Katniss' in mine.

"Without being dismissed?" gasps Effie.

"I dismissed myself," she says. She's so stubborn, I actually find myself resenting her a little just for endangering herself, which is stupid, but I actually admire her for what she's done. In a way, she's showed them that they can't control her, can't use her as a piece in their games...

We're all just a piece in the Hunger Games, a sick pawn for the Gamemakers to kill, to use for entertainment. I'm deep in thought when Haymitch speaks up.

"Well, that's it." he says, almost casually buttering himself another roll.

"Do you think they'll arrest me?" she asks, I don't detect a single note of fear or remorse.

"Doubt it. Be a pain to replace you at this stage." he says.

"What about my family?" This time, I can sense something in her tone. "Will they punish them?" _No, they can't do that. _They can't hurt Prim, tiny, delicate Primrose.

"Don't think so. Wouldn't make much sense. See, they'd have to reveal what happened in the Training Centre for it to have any worthwhile effect on the population. People would need to know what you did. But they can't since it's a secret, so it would be a waste of effort. More likely they'll make your life hell in the arena." says Haymitch.

"Well, they've already promised to do that to us anyway." I point out.

"Very true." Haymitch says matter a factly. I relax a little when Haymitch rips apart a bit of pork and laughs.

"what were their faces like?" he asks.

Then Katniss smiles, which makes me smile too. "Shocked. Terrified. Uh, ridiculous, some of them. One man tripped backwards into a bowl of punch." she says. Everyone except Effie laughs, but she surprisingly has a smile creeping across her lips.

"Well, it serves them right. It's their job to pay attention to you. And just because you come from District twelve is no excuse to ignore you." Everyone is shocked by Effie. "I'm sorry, but that's what I think," she says to no one in particular.

"I'll get a very bad score." says Katniss.

"Scores only matter if they're very good; no one pays much attention to the bad or mediocre ones. For all they know, you could be hiding your talents to get a low score on purpose. People use that strategy." says Portia.

I speak up for the first time for a while, "I hope that's hoe people interpret the four I'll probably get," I am trying hard to lighten the mood, for Katniss' sake. "If that. Really, is anything less impressive than watching a person pick up a heavy ball and throw it a couple of metres? One almost landed on my foot."

She grins at me, and I feel a warmth spread from my toes to my finger tips. She starts eating and I feel relieved, enough to start eating myself.

After a much easier dinner conversation, we all head to the sitting room for the announcement of our scores. I don't really concentrate on the screen because my mind is a little foggy. First they show a picture of the tribute then flash their score below it. So when my face appears on screen I tense, and then they flash an eight beneath my name. I relax, and earn a slap on the back from Haymitch. Then I turn with a smile on my face, noticing Katniss' hands clenched. The world around me dissolves, the only thing I see is her hands. They are covered in scars from years of hunting. Her nails are perfectly rounded off by her prep team, and they are digging into her palms with the tension of the moment. I slide my hand over the soft fabric of the couch towards hers, my fingers ready to entwine themselves around hers. Then her fingers unfurl, become more relaxed. A distant noise, or echo finds my ears, people cheering. I look away to the screen, where an eleven is flashing under Katniss' name.

Forgetting everything that just happened, Effie's squeal becomes clearer and Haymitch's whoop joins Cinna's.

"There must be a mistake. How... how could that happen?" asks Katniss.

"Guess they liked your temper," Haymitch replies. "They've got a show to put on. They need some players with some heat."

"Katniss, the girl who was on fire," says Cinna, hugging Katniss. She's more than the girl on fire though. The girl with the braid, with the sister, with the bow, with the arrows, who I love.

I smile as I congratulate her, but she is preoccupied and hurries to her room. Cinna places his hand on my shoulder and gives me a weak smile.

"We're going to talk to Haymitch," he says. I nod slowly, knowing that I have no choice.

I want to go up onto the roof, but instead we go into my room. I sit the quietly whilst Cinna goes to get Haymitch. I look down at my hands, feeling embarrassed about my stupid attempt to hold Katniss', but relieved she didn't notice. _What if she had though? _

Would she have pulled her hand away, looked at me in disgust?

Or, is it possible that she'd of held my hand back? Not because she loved me, but for comfort. Comfort seems to be the only small bit of hope for me at the moment, it's the only thing I want.

The conversation with Haymitch is brief. I tell him how I feel, how I've always felt since a young boy. He remains serious, listening hard to my every word, clinging to each sentence I string together. When I've finished, he give me a terse nod.

"I believe you," is the first thing he says. This kind of hurts me in a way, why would he not believe me? Why would I lie about such a thing? He sighs heavily and thinks for a moment.

Cinna has remained relatively quiet, but he finally joins in. "I think, that it's going to become clear in arena. It's inevitable that Peeta is going to do all he can to protect her there," she says. "Maybe, if he admits it in the interviews-" I interrupt him.

"No, no, I can't do that, what will everyone at home think? What will she think?" my voice is hurried, breaking in places ad the words tumble out.

Haymitch shrugs. "It might be the best thing Peeta, it will gain you sympathy from the sponsors, she'll have more chance of surviving if the audience knew." I bury my face in my hands. I'm not afraid to admit it, I'm not ashamed of my feelings. I'm concerned for Gale.

He's the one who has been there for Katniss after her father's death, helped keep her and her family alive. Then I've turned up, disappeared to the Capitol with her. I have been jealous of him for years, but never hated him, because with out him, who knows where the Everdeens would be now.

I know Cinna and Haymitch are exchanging a concerned look. I sit up straight, nodding slowly and holding back hot tears. When I die, at least she'll know.

"You need to get some sleep, you have your interview in two days, lots of preparation to do." says Haymitch.

"Can you coach us separately?" I ask him. "Then you'll be able to help me decide what to say, how to tell them." I almost plead.

"Of course." he says. Cinna and Haymitch get up and leave. I change into the same clothes I wore last night, curling up in bed and absorbing myself if my thoughts.

Before I know it, Effie is banging on my door. "Get up Peeta! Up, up, it's another big, big, big, day!" I groan and rub my eyes. She's not the most pleasant alarm.

I take my time in the shower, using the same pine smelling soaps again. I dress myself and make my way to the dining room. Before I even sit down Effie starts talking.

"Haymitch tells me you are being coached separately from Katniss, what are you two not telling me?"

"Effie, leave the boy alone, he's only just woken up." says Haymitch with a hiss in his tone.

"I'm part of your little team too, I deserve to know just as much as everyone else!" she replies with narrowed eyes.

"Stop, please." I say, taking my seat and helping myself to eggs and ham.

There isn't much talk after Katniss comes in. She eats her breakfast, not really noticing the silence.

"So, what's going on? You're coaching us on interviews today, right?" she soon says.

"That's right," says Haymitch, with a subtle glance at me.

"You don't have to wait until I'm done. I can listen and eat at the same time," she says.

"Well, there's been a change of plans. About our current approach," says Haymitch, he makes it sound so formal.

"What's that?" she asks curiously.

"Peeta has asked to be coached separately."

It's the look in Katniss' eyes that lets me know that its hurt her. I drop my eyes down and stare at my plate, feeling very guilty and stupid.


	10. Chapter 9

She doesn't actually look at me, she just keeps looking at Haymitch with a semi-shocked expression. I flit my eyes to her, to Haymitch, back to my plate. There's a small choke at the back of my throat that I need to release but I don't want to be the one to break the silence. I can't tell if she's upset, or just shocked. All I know is that the thin layer of confidence I had built between us was gone. Eventually Katniss finds her voice, and unlike me, breaks the silence over the breakfast table.

"Good, so what's the schedule?" she says. Real hurt is registering in her tone and I feel one hundred times worse then I already did, which I wasn't sure was possible.

"You'll each have four hours with Effie for presentation and then four hours with me for content," says Haymitch. Great, four hours with them each. "Katniss, you'll start with Effie." So, I am starting with Haymitch... Joy.

After breakfast Haymitch and I make our way to the sitting room and we sit on opposite sides of the small table. He watches me carefully for a couple of seconds then leans back, getting comfortable on the couch.

"In your interview, I want you to tell the audience about how you feel about Katniss," he says simply. I begin to protest but he interrupts me. "If you want her to get out of there alive, she needs sponsors. To get sponsors, she needs to have a chance of winning, to be desirable. You can do that for her Peeta."

I sigh heavily and slump back on the couch, "But she'll hate me for it," I say.

Haymitch just shrugs and leans back too. "She will take a lot of convincing, she has a difficult personality," he says.

"Just like you then," I shoot back and he replies with a brooding glance. "I don't care, I just don't want her to hate me."

"She's not going to hate you, well, she might be upset at first... But then she'll realise that you were helping here, she's not stupid." he replies.

"Fine," I sigh. "But how am I going to do it?"

Haymitch gives me a long look and then seems to make a decision. "Ceaser will ask you if you have a girl back home, he usually does, and if he doesn't you try to bring it up," he begins. "Then you can say no, and he'll push you for an answer, then you can tell him."

I try and take in the instructions and nod, not really absorbing the information. "What if he doesn't ask?" I say quietly.

"You are good with words Peeta, you have physical strength and the strength to move the crowds, I know you'll be fine," Haymitch just rambles on about it all, telling me what to say and not what to say. I don't listen. For about an hour I just nod, but block the sound of his voice out.

Finally he comes to an end, moving onto how I will present myself because that is just as important as the content of my interview. He tries a few things first, getting me to be _funny_, _cocky_ but then decides that _likeable _is my best bet. I try a few small jokes but I'm not too great, I just have trouble side stepping into the subject of declaring my feelings for Katniss.

"You'll be fine, just make sure you save that till last," says Haymitch.

"I'm no good, I'm going to screw it up, my interview, the way Katniss sees me, this whole thing..."

"Peeta," Haymitch puts a hand on my shoulder. "Don't let them change you." I look down at the almost full bottle of spirit on the table next to Haymitch, the almost sober expression on his face. He is trying to help me, in turn, saving Katniss. I trust him.

After my session with Haymitch we have lunch, and our conversations return to normal. Now I feel more at ease around Haymitch. But he's drinking again, and he has to discuss things with Katniss next. I give him a hard look over my fork as he raises his glass again, and to my surprise, he stops drinking. Together, we will get Katniss out of that arena, alive.

Next I have to endure Effie. As I was raised in the Merchant class in District Twelve, I have manners. I can use a knife and fork, sit up straight and speak well. There are some children from the Seam who eat with their fingers, they don't know how to use a knife and fork. I don't look down on them like a lot of my friends, because I know it's not their fault. Effie shows me how I should walk, do a proper hand shake and which points to smile at. We spend a lot of time on the smiling bit, because at this point in time I am feeling miserable. This part of training tired me out more than the physical training we've been doing in the training centre. By the end of it all, I just want to go to bed.

Katniss isn't there for dinner, and Haymitch is drinking heavily again. I assume their training session did not go well. Because of this I leave the table early, with Effie shouting at me about manners. As I pass her room I hear her smashing plates, throwing things. I am about to enter her room when a small, pale hand touches mine, then quickly retracts. I turn slowly to see the Avox girl, the one that Katniss and Gale saw in the woods. She has stepped back quite far, fear on her face, regretting the touch of her hand on mine.

"Will you... Help her?" I ask carefully. In reply she gives me a weak smile and a gentle nod. She has read me like a book, she knows that I feel for the girl smashing plates, crying as one cuts her hand. I step back, and let her pass, whispering out a quiet thank you and making my way to my room.

I can hear Katniss yelling at her, feeling sorry for the weight on both their shoulders. I'm tense, just sitting on my bed until the shouting stops. I sigh and undress, slipping into bed in my underwear. I don't find sleep, I find nightmares that have been locked in my head. Things that I dread happening when I am awake, but become my only reality in my sleep. I wake several times, drenched in sweat and not finding any comfort in letting my eyes close again. Early in the morning, I rise, pull on a gown and head up to the roof.

The cold air stings my hot cheeks, but if feels good. I spend about an hour watching the Capitol wake up. I see tiny figures emerge from their perfectly arranged homes, wearing their perfect clothes and adorning their perfect make-up. It makes me feel sick, physically. I can't decide if it is because I didn't sleep, the hight I am at or because I can't cope with the emotions flowing through me with each passing second.

Time passes slowly when your only company is grief. Eventually time becomes reality and someone calls my name from the stairs leading back to my floor.

"Peeta...?" A Capitol affected voice says softly. I turn and find Portia rising slowly up onto the roof, searching for me.

"I'm here," I answer, standing up from the position I had held for the past hours.

"Ah, Cinna said you might be here," she smiles softly. "We need to prep you."

Of course... Today is the interview with Ceaser Flickerman. I am going to be live to the whole of Panem, admitting my love for Katniss to every retched person in it.

Portia doesn't register the exasperated sigh that leaves my lips. She waves me downstairs and I am pushed into a routine normal to the prep team, but totally alien for me.

I am prepared for the interview, I get given three or four baths. I am coated in all sorts of weird smelling stuff. My skin is perfected and my hair gelled.

By the end of it I don't even recognise myself, but I suppose I am not supposed to look like the weak boy who left his home crying about unsaid things.

I am dresses in a black suit with flames spreading from the sleeves of it, and up from my ankles.

"Katniss wasn't the only one on fire you know," a voice says. I turn and see Cinna standing in the doorway. He nods to Portia and she gives him a small smile before she leaves.

He walks over to me slowly. Brushes my shoulders, checks my hair, then he stands in front of me, watching my expression which is down cast. It seems to be the only thing I can manage right now.

He sighs, putting a hand on my shoulder. "She looks really beautiful tonight," is all he says.

"I know," I reply. It sounds stupid because I haven't seen her, but I know she will be beautiful, lit up by the fire on her body and in her mind.

He pulls down my sleeves and adjusts my collar which also has flames spreading in every direction.

"Never have I met a boy so mature at your age," he begins. "Maybe it's just how you've grown up, in the district. But I think we both know it's because you have had feelings that even some adults can only dream of."

Tears are threatening to spill and I can only manage a nod. After he leaves I sit down, not even sure what to think of. I sit there with a blank mind, unable to cry, frown, curl up. It's like things have become so hard, my body won't even work any more.

I experience that feeling all over again when Portia and I meet with Katniss and Cinna. Her dress is covered in gems of all different shades of red, orange and yellow. Every time she takes a step, the light ripples up the reflective gems, causing her to look like she's on fire. The girl on fire. I thank Cinna in my head over and over again, because surely no sponsor could ever over look a girl whose looks make her look like the strongest element on the planet. I bite my lip to hold back a huge smile but I can't help the blush which is no doubt as bright as the colours igniting her beautiful face. Thankfully she doesn't notice, but it makes me remember how she never notices and that brings me back to reality.

I stand somewhat solemnly as Effie trills over how beautiful Katniss looks as Haymitch makes small passes at me. I end up biting my nails and Portia smacks my hand, giving me a stern look. She has no idea.

We get in the elevator and all I can see is the reflective light glistening off the dress and back onto the walls of the confined space. I allow myself to glance at Katniss, admiring how her hair falls with ribbons of red waving with it. Her dark eyes projecting more power then ever, also being so breathtaking I don't take one myself for a short time.

Then we exit the elevator and join the other tributes. We're lined up as we wait to be let onto the stage where we will sit in a big arc throughout the interviews.

I sit swaying on my feet, watching them as I try my best not to notice the eyes of the other tributes. Some are sad, some bright with excitement. I let my mind wonder, wonder why a person would volunteer themselves into a competition which guarantees almost certain death. Then I remember the grounds on which Katniss through herself forward and I wipe the thoughts from my mind, letting myself go blank just like my future.

I am pulled back to the room when Haymitch trudges up to us.

"Remember, you're still a happy pair. so act like it," he growls. _Oh Haymitch, how good you make me feel about myself._

Then, as we enter through a door to the stage I am hit by thousands of faces, hundreds of cameras and two chairs. Once containing a violently blue Ceaser Flickerman, the other empty and intimidating, as it's the place where I will make the biggest confession that I have.

I am blinded by the lights, swallowing my fear and the will to run back off stage, hide in a dark corner and sob, and keep my secrets to myself. Unfortunately, I can't do that. So as I cross to my seat right at the end of the arc I take a deep breath and ignore the pain bubbling up in my chest and just prepare to listen to the other tributes, who must die in order for the love of my life to win.

I look over to Ceaser Flickerman as the interviews begin, taking in his pastel blue hair and eyebrows. He has hosted the interviews for almost 40 years, and his looks have hardly changed except for the colour of his trends. He also wear a matching colour suit, so smart and clean. Overly smart, clean and exaggerated just like everything else here. I don't have stage fright, I'm not scared to talk in front of these people, this country. I'm scared of what I must do and say. So I shut them out, it's like my ears have closed up and I don't even shift my gaze from a spot straight in front of me until I notice a tiny figure skip past my eye line. My eyes widen and finally adjust, because at first, I thought the girl was Prim. Katniss' little sister, who is the same size, skips in the same way through the market with her older sister. But no, this is Rue.

She's wearing a delicate little gown complete with wings, and she looks like a tiny bird floating towards Ceaser. I am surprised at how sweet Ceaser is with her, complimenting her for getting a seven in her training. She's not cocky, but she's defiantly confident that she may actually stand a chance. Instinctively, I feel terrible that she won't be going home. I made a promise to my father, to myself, and I am about to make a promise to the whole of Panem that Katniss will win. Tears don't even threaten me right now. I'm such a wreck that it takes me a few moments to realise that Katniss is shimmering, blazing up to the seat next to Ceaser.

I blink.

I blink again.

The spots of fire on my eyesight won't leave, the spots of fire like the blazing fire that has lefts a mark burning in my heart. Before I know it, and probably before she knows it too, the interview begins.

"So, Katniss, the Capitol must be quite a change from district twelve. What impressed you most since you arrived here?" begins Ceaser, with a smile that spreads across the entire of his highly made up cheeks. There is a long silence.

I bite my lip because Katniss really looks on the edge of being truly terrified. Her lips are slightly parter, her hands shifting in her lap, a distant look in her eyes as she stares at a spot between Ceaser and the audience. I see he expression give a tiny jolt, and I sigh with relief as she gets her first words out.

"The lamb stew." she says. I actually smile despite the situation, hearing small laughs from the crowd makes sure my smile isn't forced.

"The one with the dried plums?" asks Ceaser. I know which stew she is talking about it. Katniss raved about it for ages after one of the spectacular Capitol dinners we have been given since the Reaping. After a small nod, Ceaser continues. "Oh I eat it by the bucketful, it doesn't show does it?" he inquires with a hand on his stomach. The audience cheers, giving Katniss more confidence too.

"Now Katniss, when you came out in the opening ceremonies, my heart actually stopped. What did you think of that costume?" trills Ceaser. A slight hesitation from Katniss before she replies.

"You mean after I got over my fear of being burned alive?" she interjects. The crowd laughs, and I let a small one pass myself. I've never been more attracted to her, ever.

"Yes. Start then." says Ceaser.

"I thought Cinna was brilliant and it was the most gorgeous costume I had ever seen and I couldn't believe I was wearing it. I can't believe I am wearing this either," she plays with the skirt of the dress. "I mean, look at it!"

I smile at how relaxed she now looks, easily conversing with the interviewer, appreciating how amazing she does look. All of a sudden she steps up, stepping with delicate feet and then spinning in a slow circle. I am again blinded, by fire or the feeling burning my insides I don't know, all I know is I can't take my eyes off her. Once she stops things become normal again, my senses returning to me. I can hear, see properly, feel the sweat gathering in my palms.

"Oh, do that again!" begs Ceaser, the crowd cheering with him. I only just prepare myself for when she throws her arms our, letting her hair and the skirt fly out, engulfing her in flames which leave me speechless. When she finishes, she clutches Ceaser's arm, giggling.

"Don't stop!" He says with a laugh in his voice.

"I have too, I'm dizzy!" she says. Her giggling actually sends a wave of butterflies swarming in my stomach, making me shuffle in my seat slightly. When Ceaser wraps his arm around Katniss, as an obvious gesture of protection, the butterflies still make an attempt to charge. I am burning with jealousy. I force the feeling from me.

"Don't worry, I've got you. Can't have you following in your mentors footsteps." I chuckle, remembering Haymitch toppling off the stage at the Reaping. The cameras find Haymitch and he doesn't seem bothered, he waves and laughs, pointing the cameras back to Katniss.

"It's all right," Ceaser reassures the crowd. "She's safe with me. So, how about that training score. E-le-ven. Give us a hint what happened in there."

Katniss flashes a small, looking at the Gamemakers in a balcony.

"Um... all I can say is, I think it was a first." she says nervously. The Gamemakers are chuckling, and I smile weakly because I also know about how Katniss lost her temper and shot an arrow right into their viewing box.

"You're killing us, details, details!" Ceaser pleads.

She addresses the Gamemakers, asking them if she's supposed to talk about it.

One Gamemaker shouts out, "No she's not!"

"Thank you," she says, returning to Ceaser. "My lips are sealed.

Ceaser gives a good natured nod, returning himself to the interview. "Let's go back, then, to the moment they called your sister's name at the Reaping, and you volunteered. Can you tell us about her?"

Panic.

It is easy to tell she doesn't want to talk about it, but she does.

"Her name's Prim," she starts in a shaky voice. "She's just twelve. And I love her more than anything."

Now the whole audience is in silence, I can hear the breathing of tributes metres from me.

"What did she say to you? After the Reaping?" Ceaser asks.

"She asked me to try really hard to win." she says. I swallow, hoping that I can keep Katniss alive, and keep Prim safe too.

"And what did you say?" he prompts.

She tenses, looking down at her hands and back up at Ceaser again.

"I swore I would."

Small happy sighs quietly run though the crowd.

"I bet you did," says Ceaser. Then a buzzer goes off. "Sorry, we're out of time. Best of luck, Katniss Everdeen, tribute from district twelve!"

The applause begins as Katniss graciously makes her way back her seat by mine.

Then, it's my turn. _Just relax._

And somehow, due to some miracle. I do relax. I take my seat next to Ceaser, shaking his hand and grinning as the crowd cheers my name. Then the interview begins.

"So, Peeta," Ceaser begins. "What do you do at home, in twelve?"

I let out a breathy laugh, sitting with my leg propped on my knee and feeling quite at home. It surprises me, how easy I find my words.

"I work in a bakery that my family owns," I say with a nod.

"Ahh, a bakery boy," Ceaser says with a smile. "So do you actually do any of the baking?"

"I ice the cakes and bake the bread..." Then a thought comes into my head. I start comparing the tributes to the different types of bread. It's completely random but it defiantly wins the crowd, I get a few snide glances from the tributes.

_I'm going to pay for that in the arena._

"I just love the smell of freshly baked bread!" exclaims Ceaser as I talked about early mornings at home.

I chuckle, "You know, the showers here are weird, I can't shift the smell of roses."

"You don't like the smell Mr Mellark, I find that quiet insulting," jokes Ceaser, laughing out at the crowd.

"Of course not, you smell delightful Ceaser!" I say with equal verve. "Tell me how I smell though," I say. I don't know why but I am leaning closer to Ceaser, gesturing for him to smell me. It's winning the crowd and that's why I am doing it, so I don't care how dumb I look.

Ceaser takes a deep breath and nods approvingly. "You've only been here a couple of days and my nostrils are tingling!" He says.

Big laughs, for Ceaser or me I don't, my performance is memorable. But I need to tell them my secret, I have too. As if Ceaser has read my mind, he bring sup the subject.

"So, Peeta, do you have a girl back home?" Ceaser asks with the tilt of the head. I feel my nerves building again, all I can manage is a shake of the head.

"Handsome lad like you. There must be some special girl," he says. "Come on, what's her name?"

I let out a long sight, clenching without being able to help it. "Well, there is this one girl," _The girl. _"I've had a crush on her ever since I can remember," _Forever. _"But I'm pretty sure she didn't know I was alive until the reaping," _because I still have no idea if she remembers me giving her that bread._

Sighs of actual sympathy from the crowd, I have to remind myself that these people do have feelings even though the don't look like humans.

"She have another fellow?" Ceaser asks.

"I don't know, but a lot of boys like her." I say. All I really know of is Gale. I guess he likes her, but that is only a guess. But as Haymitch said, I must make her sound desirable and this is the way to go. Although, it's not hard to make her sound desirable.

"So, here's what you do. You win, you go home. She can't turn you down then, eh?" Ceaser says, nudging me and flashing a smile.

He we go... I bite my lip briefly.

"I don't think it's going to work out. Winning... won't help in my case." I say shyly.

"Why ever not?" asks Ceaser.

_BAM_. There she is, in the rain in my back garden leaning against the old apple tree. Walking past my house to the woods. Standing at the window of my home admiring the cakes she never knew I iced. Running up to volunteer for her sister.

I stop the choke rising in my throat and spit it out. "Because… because… she came here with me."


	11. Chapter 10

Silence.

I have never knows so many people to be so silent.

I almost feel like people are going to touch the three middle fingers of their left hand to their lips and raise them to me, because this moment is so much like when Katniss volunteered at the Reaping. A person, going into the arena to save another.

But this is not District 12, my home, full of people who care about me. No, this is the Capitol. The place which is the reason I have made this announcement, right now because I am coming back to reality. The fuzzy outline of Ceaser, the gasps from the audience as the confession sinks in and Katniss… out of the corner of my eye I can see her obvious blush and confusion.

_I am so going to pay for this later._

I am still a total stranger to her. She's been slated to go up against me in the arena and now this. She's going to hate me, and the realisation of that, that I am going to die with her hating me. It's unbearable.

People say heartbreak is a physical pain, and now I can relate to that as Ceaser gives me the saddest of looks. I manage a small reply to him, but really I just want to look at my feet, curl up and say goodbye to myself.

He's looking at me, and I replay the last few moments so I can hear his question.

"She didn't know?"

I shake my head, biting my lip a little and then realising, finding my words. "Not until now," I say.

All cameras are now on Katniss. So many emotions are raging through her eyes, hey deep, grey, Seam eyes.

"Wouldn't you love to pull her back out here and get a response?" Ceaser asks the crowd, who are now returning to their usual selves. Shouting, yelling, some are even sobbing. "Sadly, rules are rules and Katniss Everdeen's times has been spent. Well, best of luck to you, Peeta Mellark, I think I speak for all of Panem when I say out hearts go with yours," Ceaser says. I don't hear much more after that because the audience is so loud. I have made the impression I wanted and needed.

I am in love with Katniss Everdeen. The whole of Panem knows, the sponsors. Maybe, with my confession, she will come out of this thing alive.

The apple tree in my backyard. The one Katniss lent against in the rain as I risked a beating from my mother to feed her. This is what comes to mind as we leave the stage, dismissed by the Capitol citizens screaming applaud. One summer my brothers were taunting me, I stood at the trunk crying as they climbed higher, my small legs too short to allow me to climb it. I was around eight years old, their teasing drove me crazy and I slumped on the dry ground, crumbling dried mud between my fingers.

All my annoyance receded as I heard a man singing, I knew the voice instantly, running into my family bakery to the counter. There was Katniss' father, and right beside him the girl herself. I stood shocked, standing close to my father behind the cabinets. She was laughing and sweetly singing along to the parts of the melody she knew. My smile was clear on my chubby cheeks, but as usual, she didn't notice.

I realised she had talent, so did her father. I wanted one too, so I went looking for one. Not because I thought having a talent would be fun, or that she would like it. Just so I could be like her, in some way. A talent where I could express my emotions and make other people stop to listen, to see, to touch. I found that talent in drawing. All I needed was a pencil and paper and I would be drawing for hours, alone in my room.

My mother thought it was a waste of time, but my father was proud of me and that's all the mattered, because he understood in a way no one else probably ever did, or would.

My feet carry me subconsciously, into a car, I leave it with a blank face. Until two firm hands push into my chest, launching me off balance as I fall back into a vase. It smashes on the ground and I collapse into the shattered pieces, the shards cutting deep into my hands which sting straight away. I wince, and squint to see the person who has pushed me was Katniss. Blood is filling my palms and the warm liquid sends shivers up my arms as I gasp at her.

"What was that for?" I protest, getting angry wouldn't help anything.

"You had no right! No right to go saying those things about me!" she is shouting, and the pain of that cuts out the waves of pain rushing up my arms as I pull my hands from the shattered pottery.

Effie, Haymitch, Portia and Portia appear, hurrying from the elevator.

"What's going on?" says Effie hysterically, "Did you fall?" she whines at me.

"After she shoved me," I say as emotionless as I can, Effie and Cinna help me up, blood dripping from my fingertips. Haymitch turns to Katniss, stern eyes focusing on her.

"Shoved him?" he prowls with a raised eyebrow.

"This was your idea, wasn't it? Turning me into some kind of fool in front of the entire country?" she answers.

I shake my head slightly. "It was my idea," I say, starting to pull shards from my palms and wincing sharply. "Haymitch just helped me with it.

"Yes, Haymitch is very helpful. To you!" she says, her voice raising again.

"You _are_ a fool," Haymitch says in disgust. "Do you think he hurt you? That boy gave you something you could never achieve on your own."

"He made me look weak!" she growls.

"He made you look desirable! And let's face it, you can use all the help you can get in that department. You were about as romantic as dirt until he said he wanted you. Now they all do. You're all they're talking about. The star-crossed lovers from District Twelve!" says Haymitch with a comical laugh after.

"But we're not star-crossed lovers!" she says.

Haymitch grabs her shoulders, pinning her to a wall. I take a step forward, the pain from my hands fading instantly as I stretch out to help her. I don't want Haymitch touching her. Cinna holds me back though, a stern look on his face which I have never seen before. I stop.

Who cares? It's all a big show. It's all how you're perceived. The most I could say about you after your interview was that you were nice enough, although that in itself was a small miracle. Now I can say you're a heart breaker. Oh, oh, oh, how the boys back home fall longingly at your feet. Which do you think will get you more sponsors?" he says, his voice low and threatening. Katniss shoves him away, shocked but clearly still defiant.

"I should have been told, so I didn't look so stupid," she says after a deep breath. She's calmed down, changed her mind about the whole thing... sort of.

"No, your reaction was perfect. If you'd known, it wouldn't have read as real," says Portia.

I am still annoyed about being shoved into the urn, digging bits from my hand. "She's just worried about her boyfriend," I say it gruffly but instantly regret saying it after.

She blushes deeply. "I don't have a boyfriend."

"Whatever," I say. "But I bet he's smart enough to know a bluff when he sees it. Besides you didn't say you loved me. So what does it matter?"

She calms further, dropping her shoulders as she looks a little ashamed. Now I feel bad.

"After he said he loved me, did you think I could be in love with him, too?" she asks.

"I did," says Portia. "The way you avoided looking at the cameras, the blush."

"You're golden, sweetheart. You're going to have sponsors lined up around the block," says Haymitch.

After, she turns to me bashfully. "Sorry I shoved you."

"Doesn't matter," I shrug. "Although it's technically illegal."

"Are your hands okay?" she sighs.

"They will be all right," obviously not, the blood is still flowing fast and the deep stinging is resonating up my arm. We go to eat but my hands are still bleeding so heavily , Portia takes me to have them stitched. The Capitol medic applies some sort of cream which stings a lot at first, then numbs my hand. I sigh as thread is pushed through my palm, sealing my deep wounds. Portia pats my arm, biting her lip, obviously not used to gore that isn't on a television screen. After I sit up, the Capitol person wiping my hands down with antiseptic.

"This is going to effect me in the arena..." I sigh, turning my head to Portia. She give my arm a gentle squeeze. A reassuring smile on her lips.

"You'll do fine. Do you have a plan?" she asks.

I do have a plan. I haven't told anyone, because it's so ridiculous. My mind has been racing as I lay awake at night, thinking and thinking how I can risk my life to save Katniss.

Do I ally with her? Do I stand my ground and kill anyone who goes to close to her hiding place? Or... Do I team with the careers, convince them they need me to find the girl who somehow got an 11 in training. Their biggest threat.

How I'll do it I have no idea... but some how I will, because it's the only full proof way to keep her safe. Gain their trust, and then turn on them when she's in danger.

The arena is tomorrow. And I can think about it more, as I will never be able to sleep.

After dinner we re-watch the interviews. I block my senses out until after, honestly not wanting to relive the moment again when my best kept secret seeped into Panem.

The next big thing is saying goodbye to Effie and Haymitch. Cinna and Portia will be with Katniss and I right up until we enter the arena, but these two are leaving now to the Games headquarters. Here they will meet with the sponsors, and hopefully signing up as many as possible for Katniss.

Effie has real tears swelling in her eyes, she thanks us, wishes us well and we each earn a kiss on the cheek after she says, "I wouldn't be at all surprised if I finally get promoted to a decent district next year!". Because of course, it's Effie and it's like she's paid to say something awful.

Haymitch crosses his arms and looks us both over.

"Any final words of advice?" I ask.

"When the gong sounds, get the hell out of there. You're neither of you up to the blood bath at the Cornucopia. Just clear out, put as much distance as you can between yourselves and the others, and find a source of water, got it?" he says.

I nod, even though I plan to get into the thick of the bloodbath, ally up with the careers and put myself in danger for Katniss. "And after that?" I ask.

"Stay alive," says Haymitch. It's the same advice he gave us on the train, but he's not drunk and laughing this time. And we only nod. What else is there to say?

I head to my room, scrubbing the small amount of make up from my face and washing myself. I stand under the warm water way too long, my skin wrinkly and sore. I pace my room before I pull on comfy clothes and go to the roof.

Instantly I return to myself, the cool air on my face relaxing me and I briefly forget about tomorrow, when the Games begin. I slowly cross to the edge, looking down on an alien world. The lights glisten in the dark, people are lining the streets. They seem to be dancing, singing. They are having a party in honour of the opening of the Games.

The roof is not lit, but there is dim light which reached the top of the tall building, allowing me to see my surroundings slightly.

I push the sweet air in and out of my nostrils, knowing these are the last free breaths I will ever take before my death. My breath where I won't be hunted down, killed... murdered. The only thing stopping my peace is the occasional car horn, or shrill cry of laugher from far below.

I examine my bandaged hands, when I flex my fingers I get a stricken stinging pain which causes me to groan. I don't blame Katniss for the wounds she gave me, but on top of the non visible ones I hold inside, it's overwhelming.

I wonder, that if there wasn't a force field to throw be back onto the building, would I jump? No... I wouldn't put myself out of misery and leave the girl I love to care for herself...

It's been a couple hours of wondering of days, more likely weeks to come. Suddenly a voice causes me to jump, but I don't move.

"You should be getting some sleep," says Katniss' soft voice.

I shake my head slightly, a small smile creeping onto my lips but I don't turn for her to see. "I didn't want to miss the party. It's for us, after all," I say. She comes up next to me, leaning over the rail and looking down at the figures I have observed for a long while.

"Are they in costumes?" she asks.

"Who could tell?" I reply, not knowing myself. "With all the crazy clothes they wear here. Couldn't sleep, either?"

"Couldn't turn my mind off," she says in reply.

"Thinking about your family?" I ask curiously. I thought I knew the answer, but it's different to what I expect.

"No," she says with the slightest sigh. "All I can do is wonder about tomorrow. Which is pointless of course."

I haven't been exactly worrying about it, just thinking. How to get into the career pack...

As there is a small silence between us I shift myself, unable to find a comfortable place to hold my bandaged hands.

"I really am sorry about your hands," she murmurs to me.

"It doesn't matter, Katniss," I reply. "I've never been a contender in these Games anyway."

"That's no way to be thinking," she says.

"Why not? It's true. My best hope is to not disgrace myself and..."I cut myself off. I have already disgraced myself. I have let the games _change_ me. I let them squeeze my biggest heart throb to the whole of Panem...

"And what?" asks Katniss.

"I don't know how to say it exactly. Only . . . I want to die as myself. Does that make any sense?" she gives her head a shake. "I don't want them to change me in there. Turn me into some kind of monster that I'm not." I am trying my best to explain how I feel, but I am so mixed up myself. I guess what I am trying to say is that I want to be Peeta the baker's son. The boy with friends at school, and a big secret. I don't want to die as a tribute, manipulated by the idea that killing is my finally reality.

"Do you mean you won't kill anyone?" she queries.

"No, when the time comes, I'm sure I'll kill just like everybody else. I can't go down without a fight. Only I keep wishing I could think of a way to . . . to show the Capitol they don't own me. That I'm more than just a piece in their Games," I say, sighing slightly after as I look out on the world that created this whole situation.

"But you're not," she says. "None of us are. That's how the Games work."

"Okay, but within that framework, there's still you, there's still me," I insist. "Don't you see?"

"A little. Only . . . no offence, but who cares, Peeta?" she says.

This winds me up a bit. She has no idea... none at all the battle I play in my mind each day.

"I do. I mean, what else am I allowed to care about at this point?" I lock my eyes on hers, because as much as I do care about her, I know she doesn't care about me. And that feeling shatters inside me each and everyday, piercing my heart like thousands of tiny shards of glass which leave me drained and feeling so alone not even my father can talk me out of the silence I creep into. Once I didn't talk to anyone for weeks on end, but guess what, no one realised except my father. Because he is the only who ever understands.

She steps back, "Care about what Haymitch said. About staying alive."

"Okay. Thanks for the tip, sweetheart." I say in reply with a patronising smile to she can feel a sting. Just something back at her, so I know that she at least feels something. The use of Haymitch's term sets her off too.

"Look, if you want to spend the last hours of your life planning some noble death in the arena, that's your choice. I want to spend mine in District Twelve." she growls.

"Wouldn't surprise me if you do," I say. "Give my mother my best when you make it back, will you?"

"Count on it," she says back. She turns on her heel and disappears off back down the stairs.

I sigh deeply to myself and bury my head in my hands. I lost my temper again...

Like either of us need the added stress.

_She's not the only one with a weight on their heart, idiot._

I hear the faint tinkling find it's way into my ears. It calms me and I look up to see the small garden, the only small relic of natural I can see in this wide city.

I cross to the garden and stand by the willow where I told Cinna about how I love Katniss. He was the first person except my father to ever know... And now everyone knows.

I find recluse. Standing beneath the long, trailing branches of the willow encompassing me in a green net of safety. I understand now, why Katniss finds such comfort in the woods. Because it's how humans are meant to be.

We're not suppose to be living in cities on concrete, but working life in the natural world created by billions of years of work.

The sound in the streets die down, and now I know it's late and I have to get to my room, but sleep will not find me still.

Led flat on my back, Portia comes in before dawn to collect me. There is no sign of Katniss, I have no idea if I'm being moved before or after her. Portia takes me to the roof where I spent the majority of my night and a hovercraft appears out of no where, just like Katniss says the one that picked up the Avox girl in the woods. A ladder descends and I place my hands and feet on the lower rungs and instantly it's as if I'm frozen. Some sort of current glues me to the ladder while I'm lifted safely inside.

I am still stuck firmly to the ladder as a woman in a white coat approaches me with a large needle. "This is your tracker, it may hurt a little but stay still," she says. I can't move at all due to the forces acting on me, but I still feel a sharp pain when the needle is inserted into my forearm.

The ladder releases me then dips down to collect Portia. Next thing I know we're guided to a room for breakfast by an Avox. The food is as amazing, delicious and appetising as ever, but it all seems to stick in my throat. Nerves and lack of sleep are my main issue right now, and forcing food down my gullet isn't a good idea.

After abut half an hour the window black out so I can no longer see the clouds drifting past us, suggesting we are nearing our destination. I wonder what the arena is like. Desert, woods, jungle, mountains... I'll be finding out very soon. When the hovercraft lands, we descend the ladder which now goes underground. I will now spend my remaining time with Portia, in the area called the Launch Room. Well, in the Capitol that's what it's named, but in the districts we refer to it as the Stockyard, the place where animals go before slaughter.

I am offered a shower and I gratefully take one, enjoying it because this is the last shower I will ever have. After, my clothes arrive. All the tributes wear the same outfit, and Portia has had no idea what it is. In the package is simple tawny pants, light green shirt, sturdy brown belt, and a thin, hooded black jacket that falls past the top of my legs. The boots are made of soft leather, with rubber soles. Good for running in.

"What do you think?" I ask, examining the jacket mostly.

The material in the jacket will reflect your body heat, so I'm thinking there will be a few cold nights," says Portia.

I nod in reply, remembering the hemp bracelet n my wrist. I admire it again, allowing myself to think of Ben, then Michael and lastly my father. I don't bother sparing a thought for my mother. I've always been a burden to her and that's the sad truth, no point wasting time thinking about her.

"Does it all fit okay?" Portia puts a hand on my shoulder. I nod as I swing my arms a bit, finding the outfit to fit well.

A nurse comes in and examines my hands, unbandaging them and spraying on a strong smelling mist which stings. She tells me that they should be fully healed in a few days, but by the look in her face I can tell she doesn't think I'll last the long.

After that I am quiet. I sit next to Portia as she looks at me with concern. After a while she turns to me and tries to talk.

"Peeta..." she says in a soft voice. I turn to her but don't reply, my fingers are flexing uncomfortably despite the pain it cases me. My nerves are piling up.

"I want you to know, there's more to this than... keeping Katniss alive," she says. "I don't want to see your life wasted either, Peeta."

"I... I know what I want to do," I murmur. "I want to die... saving her." I know I sound like I want to be some kind of hero or something, but that's not what I meant. If I could truly prove how much I love her before my death, then having my own life taken instead of hers is the sacrifice I will make.

Portia doesn't seem to have anything else to say, the next voice I hear is a cool female one, telling us to prepare for launch. I get up shakily, stepping onto the circular plate that will rise into the arena. I get two last gifts before a glass cylinder closes me off from her. I get a kiss on the cheek and a "Good luck, Peeta. Do what you think is right."

Then I am being pushed up, my surrounding go dark briefly as I leave the Launch Room behind and then I am blinded by light. I catch the hopeful smell of woods swelling in my nostrils, but I can't focus on that, because before I can really register where I am a booming voice engulfs my senses.

The Hunger Games legendary announcer, Claudius Templesmith is all I hear.

"Ladies and gentlemen, let the Seventy-fourth Hunger Games begin!"


	12. Chapter 11

Sixty seconds. I have sixty seconds to make up my mind of what to do, where to go, who to trust.

_Why didn't I work this out when I wasn't a minute from the start of the Games?_

I scold myself.

_Idiot, idiot, idiot. Focus. Where are you?_

I look down at my feet, where I am stood on the metal plate that thrust me into the arena, and the arena is...

I look up and around. A good 40 metres away from me is the Cornucopia, and all the tributes are in a ring around it, equidistant from the huge horn, whose mouth is a good seven metres high. It is spilling goods, all kinds of weapons, food, bags, supplies... everything you could need to survive.

I look around at the tributes, and I see Katniss, I stare at her momentarily, looking around then shake my head and make myself explore my surroundings.

Next I notice the forest, a huge forest stretching out for ever to one side of me, and to the other side is a steep, downward cliff, which could drop off into anything. Also, there is a vast lake, maybe that's the only source of water in the arena? I don't know.

I focus my brain again and look around, finding the careers. The all look more than menacing, their footing already placed to charge into the arena and grab their desired weapons. I square my shoulders and glance at Katniss. She's positioned her feet to run and my heart is in my throat, screaming at me. _NO, NO!_

I intently stare at her, begging for her to look at me, don't go to the Cornucopia, get to safety, get out of here.

My pleading must have worked, she looks at me and I shake my head, my eyes stern and hoping that she understands.

_No, don't go into the bloodbath, don't risk it._

The gong rings around us, and she stumbles, but then I'm off. I sprint as fast as I can, my legs taking me where my brain doesn't want me to go. I'm not a fast runner, not compared to most of the tributes who are already at the Cornucopia, but find myself at the mouth before I know it. Screaming is already registering in my ears, and I whip around to see what's happening. My eyes search the field, no one seems to be threatening me but I see a long, brown braid in the corner of my vision and there she is. She has a orange back pack slung over her shoulders, and a knife is flying towards her having left the hands of a career girl moments before. I take a few step forward, my resolve taken as I strive to get to her even though she's about 20 metres away from me. But the knife sticks harmlessly into the fabric of her bag and she keeps running, she's safe.

I watch her until the darkness of the forest swallows her and then a searing pain splits across my arm and I almost topple over, blood splatters my chest as a blade of a sword just misses my chest. I jump back and grasp my gushing arm. My eyes dart upwards to the boy from two, his eyes full of a murderous contact which I fear instantly.

I duck his next blow that comes as fast and furiously as the first one did, and roll sideways so I am now inside the Cornucopia. My arm isn't unbearably painful, but it's bleeding a lot and the dull, aching pain that had been inflicted is making it hard for me to clench my fist.

As the boy from two advances on me again, I raise my good arm, my fist clenched and deliver a hard punch to his chest, which sends him back a few paces where he falls onto his back.

He spits and grits his teeth, and then there is a girl behind him, glaring at me.

I hold up my hand and exhale.

"Please, stop," I gasp, not knowing how I found my voice. There are still a few tributes running around, being taken down. I notice the girl from four push down the boy from her own district and slam a dagger into his chest. My throat constricts and a slight groan escapes from my parted lips, I use the back of my hand to wipe my brow and look back at the boy from two, who is now standing.

"You hear that Clove, lover boy has had enough already," he nudges the girl next to him playfully and they both snigger as he approaches me, but his weapon is not raised. "Give me one reason why I shouldn't kill you right now, twelve."

"Because..," I drop my gaze for a second then look back up. "Because I know how to find Katniss," I say, my voice naught but a whisper.

The two of them laugh, and the fighting behind died down as the last tribute who is not a career is slain. The three other remaining tributes double check that all are dead, and then join Clove and the boy.

"Why haven't you killed him yet, Cato?" says a boy who must be from one. He's tall but a little stockier than Cato, and his face is almost square shaped.

Cato bears over me, his dirty blonde hair shadowing his eyes, "the kid says he can help us get at the girl from twelve."

The five of them look at each other, then the girl from one giggles slightly, her eyes locking with mine, "well, do we even know if he can fight?" she muses, twirling her long, blonde hair between her slim fingers.

"Good point, we don't want to take on some wimp just because he has some information," sneers Clove.

I clear my throat, having had enough of their jeering for now.

"I got an eight in training, I can fight."

"Ooh an eight!" says the girl from four, her bushy brown hair keeps getting in her eyes and she forces it back. "have you got something to hide, Twelve? It's not often a poor kid gets an eight," she laughs, and I don't like her already. She's short, slim and up herself.

"Shut up, Orella," Cato says and squares his shoulders. "Fine, if you help us find the girl, we'll _consider _you," the five of them laugh at the emphasise on the work 'consider'. "But I want you to prove you can fight, so," as if in some mutual, simultaneous group, the other four step back and Cato curls his fingers into fists.

"You... you want me to fight you?" I mutter, my mouth dry. Never would I ever had risked a fight with a career, I didn't expect this, not at all. But I'm strong, I got an eight in training... I can do this.

_For Katniss._

I nod and ready my own hands, taking a deep breath before Cato lunges. I'm ready though, and bring my fist round to his side, which knocks him off balance for a moment. Her grunts a bit and immediately returns, his fist slamming at my cheek with out warning. I stumble, my bleeding arm still resisting my will to clench my fist, I use my opposite shoulder to smack into his chest. At the same time, his knee meets the top of my thigh and resonates through the rest of my leg.

The other four don't seem to be cheering, but are watching with intent sneers. Clove has her arms crossed against her chest, whilst the boy from one just has his brows knitted in mock concentration.

Cato aims another punch, but I manage to duck even know my leg feels like dead weight. I move forward as stealthily as I can and uppercut his chest, knocking the wind from his lungs. I would have hit him harder, but I'm here to prove my strength, not to kill or injure.

He splutters and coughs, seemingly beaten. He raises his head and nods.

"Fine, he's good," Cato takes in a deep breath of air to fill his lungs again and holds out his hand.

"Welcome to the careers," he says sternly.

"Are you okay?" I mumble, taking his hand and shaking.

"I don't to hand to hand, I'm a weapon fighter, so don't get cocky," he says.

I wasn't getting cocky, at all. I assume I've hurt his pride in some way.

My arm is still bleeding and aching, so I walk off to find some sort of medical kit. The others also rummage through the supplies. They have all found their desired weapons, but I'm not very good with them. The boy from one suggests I try a spear.

"You are strong, plainly," he smirks and glances at Cato who is now practising with a sword. "So you probably could throw this pretty far." he chucks the spear at me and raises his eyebrows.

I get used to the weight in my hands and get a good grip, I look around and decide on a tree about 15 metres away. I prepare my stance, arrange my feet and then arch my shoulder back and throw it.

It doesn't stick in the tree, but just flies past it with surprising speed.

"Not bad," says the boy, then leaves me too it. I practise until my arm won't allow and further exercise. My leg has bruised from Cato's kick and has left me with a weird limp, but it's not painful, but the gash in my arm stops me from using it too long.

I've wrapped it in a bandage as best I can.

I help the careers move everything closer to the Cornucopia, and then we eat. Sensibly we ration a lot of it, only eating one loaf of bread and two bags of died beef between us.

As I eat a little distance from the others, who are joking around a bit, I let my mind wander to Katniss.

I know she got away from the Cornucopia, but that doesn't guarantee her safety. Just before we started eating the hovercrafts collected the dead bodies that we pushed away from the Cornucopia. I didn't count how many were there, but there will be cannons soon, signifying how many have died.

So, where is she? Hidden in the forest? I hope so, she's clever, quick-witted. She would have climbed a tree and made refuge for the day after travelling away from the Cornucopia as far as she can. My thoughts relax me and I jump when the cannon goes, here comes the count down.

"One, two, three," trills Orella, using her fingers to count.

"ten, eleven!" the five of them exchange cheers and high-fives as they celebrate. That means there are thirteen left to play.

What do the careers do anyway? Sit here and wait for someone to wonder into their midst? I'm not one for killing, but I will if I need to, but the idea of defending myself sends a rush of adrenaline to my finger tips. It's a raw, human instinct and as much as I want it to leave my veins I can't get the excitement out.

I'm not a ruthless killer, like the careers. They are not talking about their kills today, going through all eleven dead tributes on their fingers. I can't believe they are laughing

We're teenagers, kids, even. Death is an unrecognised battle that we rarely have to face in our youths. Though, I have experienced it second hand. I remember once an old woman, leaning against the wooden wall of our bakery at home. My mother, unsurprisingly, went ballistic. Batting her arms, screaming for the woman to leave, but she only drew attention to herself.

The woman wouldn't budge, and at the time it seemed funny to watch my mother get so wound up. But in time, the woman died on our doorstep. It wasn't so funny after that, but her brittle bones, sunken face and leathery skin made an impact on me. I never wanted to see anyone like that again, it scared me, but from that day on I realised how many people like that inhibited the Seam in district twelve.

I always feared that's how Katniss would grow up to be. No one in the Seam earns nearly enough money to stay healthy, and if someone from the merchant class married her... she'd be safe.

_But no, that was a fantasy until you were both reaped._

I get up and go to sit with the careers to stop my mind wondering.

"Nice for you to honour us with your presence, love boy," says the girl with blonde hair from one.

"Don't call me that..," I mutter, glancing up at her.

"Temper, temper, I'll wipe that smirk right off your face, lover boy," she says.

"Seriously Glimmer, do you ever shut up?" says Cato, eyeing her.

"And do you two ever stop bickering?" snaps Clove, her eyes are resting fondly on Cato and I wonder, just for a moment... are they?

I shake my head minimally and look back up.

"Introductions?" I ask.

Cato, points to himself, "Cato," then to the girl from his district. "Clove," the girl and boy from one. "Marvel and Glimmer," and finally the girl from four. "Orella."

I nod and stretch my leg out, massaging my thigh. "Peeta," I say.

"Oh we know," coos Orella. "We've been watching your girlfriend very closely," she giggles, and it's a sickening sound.

"So? Tell us about her," Cato interrupts and gets straight to the point.

Obviously I'm not going to tell them how she got an 11, or any of her other skills like hunting. So I needed an excuse, fast, so as not to have to tell them all.

"I don't trust you. I don't trust you not to make me tell and then kill me right here, right now," I raise my eyebrow at Cato more than anyone else.

He grits his teeth in frustration.

"If you're going to be a damn pain, I'll kill you information or no information, got it?"

I breathe out and nod, knotting my fingers together in my lap.

"Okay, but give me a few days and I swear I won't let you down."

I've never been good at keeping my promises anyway.

They consider me in hushed tones for a while as I practise more with my spear, watching the darkness slowly consume the space around me.

Soon, Marvel pasts me on the shoulder and gruffly points up the the line of the forest. There is a stream of smoke steadily rising from the tree line.

"We're going hunting," I can hear the excitement in his voice, and it's now I hear the girls giggling as they collect their weapons.

Hunting.

_Hunting for humans._


	13. Chapter 12

My hands still sting from when Katniss pushed me back into the urn after I confessed my deepest secret to the entirety of Panem. I start to change my thin bandages, but eventually I give up and hope that the stinging will keep me awake. My arm is still throbbing painfully from where Cato first attacked me with his sword, but I don't have time to change that bandage even though it's soaked with my blood.

Orella is getting irritable as myself and Glimmer fumble around, gathering our things together.

"If you don't hurry up right now I'll kill the pair of you," she says with menacing exasperation.

"I'd like to see you try, darling," says Glimmer as she swings a sheath of arrows over her shoulder. _The only bow and arrows in the arena. _I think to myself, my eyes examining the perfectly sculptured silver arrows. One way or another, I had to get this fantastic piece of weaponry to Katniss. Glimmer's slender fingers brush the fine, sharp tip of one of the arrows and gives me a fixated stare. "Unfortunately, these are mine, so take your eyes off it." she quips and then turns on her heel to join the others.

I stoop and slip one small knife into my belt. I tighten my grip around my single spear and trudge after her, my eyes monitoring the darkness of the woods growing vastly around me. My leg feels heavy due to the bruise deep in my thigh, so I have a odd limp. I try and focus on putting one foot in front of the other evenly and soundlessly, but the pain prohibits this and I am left to sway as I step on my left foot.

Cato and Clove are walking a little way ahead the rest of the group, their heads bowed together in a quiet conversation. I hear Clove laugh, a quaint and sweet laugh which you would not believe came from the lips of a ruthless, skilled killer. I saw her practising with her knives just before we left, and it scares me. It openly scares me that someone could simply raise a weapon and kill another human with out any forethought, no consideration to their family, friends or what they have to live for.

_Step carefully. _

If I don't take care and watch my mouth, control my actions, these people will kill me and my one true love.

"Hurry up, lover boy," shouts Marvel, snapping me out of my thoughtful haze. The careers have sped up, the smoke rising above the line of the trees getting closer, so close that I can begin to smell the ashy sent of burning pine. It's an almost comforting smell until my side begins to wheeze under the pressure of running on the forests uneven surface.

Then it dawns on me what awaits us at the site of this fire that has been lit, and then there she is, a girl huddled up next to a now ebbing fire. The gentle residing flames light one side of her face, which is soft, fresh and young. My chest tightens as Cato struts around her sleeping figure and kicks her hard in the side.

It's almost as if only the sight of a career would have pulled her from her stupor, she springs up right and opens her mouth to scream, but with one kick Cato has her on the ground, winded.

"Please!" she rasps, her chest rising and falling rapidly as her body tries tremendously to keep her moving. "Please don't kill me," Clove's weight pins her left arm to the mossy ground painfully. "I'll do anything!" she squeals as Cato twists his foot down on her right arm, glaring down at her.

As the sword splits through her chest I look away, but there isn't a way I can block out the ear splitting scream of pure pain, fear and unknowing feelings bursts from the girls open mouth.

Glimmer laughs as Cato pulls the sword back and wrinkles his nose up as he wipes the blood off on the moss of a near by tree. Marvel slaps him on the back and Clove gives her congratulations by brushing her hand gently across his own, but I think I am the only one to realise.

"Twelve down and eleven to go!" cries Orella, and this is met by another round of cheers from the group, I feel I should join in to keep them convinced I am not scared of death, but I can't bring myself to cheer over the death of a person.

The girl had no supplies, so once Glimmer has made sure that there is nothing to collect we straighten up as dawn begins to waver in the sky.

"Better clear out before the body starts stinking," says Cato. We nod and start off back to the Cornucopia, in the general direction in which we came from. After a short distance, Clove stops us all.

"Shouldn't we have heard a cannon by now?"

"I'd say yes. Nothing to prevent them from going in immediately." murmurs Marvel.

"Unless she isn't dead." perks up Orella, eyeing Cato as if he's the weaker one. Cato glares back.

"She's dead, I stuck her myself." he sneers directly at her.

"Then where's the cannon?" she snaps back again, and I can feel an argument forming on their tongues.

"Someone should go back, make sure the job's done." cuts in Glimmer who is absent-mindedly fiddling with a pristine arrow between her fingers again.

"Yeah, we don't want to have to track her down twice." says Orella.

"I said she's dead!" Cato side steps towards the girl and towers over her, his eyebrows knitted in a firm arrow. Before an argument can break out I make my move.

"We're wasting time," I step forward myself and train my eyes on Cato and Orella. "I'll go finish her and lets move on." Cato then moves his gaze to me, as if scanning me, looking my up and down with what appears to be a smirk.

"Go on, then, Lover boy," he says calmly. "See for yourself." I nod and walk back to where the embers are still flickering little orange dancing shapes over the trunks of the trees surrounding the small clearing. I gently place my spear down on the ground once I know that I'm far enough from the careers for them not to hear my words.

"Hello," I whisper softly. There is the tiniest sound of a scuffling and I approach the figure of the girl who is quietly choking on a mouth full of blood. When she seems me her eyes widen and he furiously attempts to push herself up. "I'm not going to hurt you, really." I try my best to keep my voice steady as my eyes gradually take in the scene before me.

Her arm is bent at an odd angle where Cato stepped on it, and that itself if bleeding badly. But the pool of blood around the girl is from the gaping wound in her chest, drenching her entire being in a thick reddish glow of death. I can almost taste the metallic tang in the air. She pushes air from her nose and once she finally twigs I can't be a threat, her eyes relax. Even I know, and she knows that she'll be dead any moment now, and I want to be with her when she does go. Maybe I could have stopped Cato from doing it...

_No, I couldn't have._

I kneel down by her side and take her trembling hand in mine, gently squeezing her small palm. Her eyes rest on mine and somehow I manage a smile.

"What's your name?" I say gently and give her hand another squeeze of reassurance. Her breath is hoarse and painful even to watch.

"Oliva."

With a residing huff of air, her body goes slightly limp and I close my eyes for a brief moment. When I open them her hand has slipped from mine and fallen onto the ground, leaving my own palm lathered in red liquid. I take out my knife and slide it across the pool on the forest floor so that the careers are not suspicious, then get to my feet.

I am about to leave after collecting my spear before I turn and look down on the figure.

"Goodbye, Oliva." I mumble respectively, before I can't look at the small piece of lost life any more.

I return quietly to the careers, and by their faces I seem to have interrupted a conversation.

"Was she dead?" asks Cato snidely.

"No. but she is now," I return as strongly as I can and lean on my spear after placing the sharp end in the ground. Suddenly the cannon fires and resonates in the arena around me, I breathe out a shaky breath and nod to prove my point. "Ready to move on?" There is a murmur of assent and we start off at a jog back to the Cornucopia. I start to think about Katniss again, as usual. My mind often wonders to what she's doing, how she's feeling. I know she is safe as we saw the faces of the dead tributes in the sky last night and her gentle face wasn't there, and the only cannon since was Oliva's. Safe being the adoptive word... she could be hiding, injured, and I could be the only one able to save her. What if she died today, tomorrow. I don't know what I'd do if she died, but my first thought would be to die myself. Somewhere, deep down though, I don't think I would. I know what she'd want is me to win, to bring riches to district 12 to keep her mother and sister alive. But I would be dead inside, and there would be no going back. _With no her, there's no me. _

As we run, the light slowly dawns over the arena and when we're almost at the edge of the woods, a figure steps out.

Orella squeals as she almost ran into the boy, who is now cowering back against the tree. "Wait, please! I have a proposition!" says the boy hurriedly, his pupils crossed as he tries to look at the blade pressed point blank at the ridge of his nose, right between his eyes. Orella has him pinned to a tree with her knife raised.  
>"What would we want from a ratty little kid like you?" says Orella, glaring at the boy who is the same height as her, but her power is obviously present. Cato crosses his arms and simply watches, because after all, any of us could take out this measly child.<p>

"I can help you, please, give me a chance to show you," he pleads again, his hands now held up in a sign of no resistance.

"How?" leers Glimmer over Orella. Orella shoots her a look as if to tell her to back off, this is her kill.

"I...," the boy starts, quivering. "I started digging up the bombs from where we came into the arena, and-"

"You're going to blow us up or something?" Cato asks pointedly and in a voice so low the boy starts.

"No, no! Of course not, it's to guard your supplies, I can activate them and have them keep your supplies safe! All I ask for in return is safety, please!"

Cato narrows his eyes and nudges Orella. "Let him go."

"What?" she protests.

"I said, let him go." with that, Orella grudgingly lets the boy down. "Go ahead, boy." says Cato and pushes him towards the edge of the woods. He stumbles but keeps moving, walking a little faster than it really needs.

He hurries to the Cornucopia where there is a large, square black thing on the ground, dirt dug into it's crevices.

"The bombs are deactivated after sixty seconds, but I can reactivate them and put them in the ground around the pile of supplies, so anyone who doesn't know how to approach them in a certain pattern will get blown to bits." the boy says knowingly and unfaltering. I suspect he must be from district 3, who deal in technology. All of them are particularly smart, which would explain how he came up with this idea.  
>"Won't it blow up the supplies though?" asks Clove thoughtfully. Cato is still in a stance where he can attack the boy if needed, and I can tell he's not one to trust easily.<p>

"I can set it up in such a way that if one bomb goes off, it will kill who ever stepped on it but won't trigger any more bombs, so the supplies will be safe. I can also set them up so there is one way to the supplies, so we can still use them." he beams somewhat and looks hopefully at all of us.

"Who said anything about_ we_?" points out Marvel with a snide finger pointing at the boy.

"Well... I..." the boy is hiding his trembling fingers again, looking down.

Cato shrugs and presses his lips into a line. "Fine. We'll give you a small amount of food and protection for some time, but any smart play and I'll break your neck in an instant, and that's a promise."

The boy nods firmly and asks in a now quiet voice. "It's just, I had a hard time, lifting the bomb and digging it up..."

"Marvel, Lover Boy, off you go." He waves his hand and turns to the Cornucopia. I'm not one to complain but Marvel does in an instant.

"I'm not trudging off with twelve and some shrimp from three, I'll be doing all the heavy work." he protests angrily.

"I'll break your neck too if your not careful," he says calmly. "Girls, you go help too," Clove gives him an almost unbelievable stare before he laughs and puts his arm around her. "Just kidding, you're coming with me."

Marvel, Glimmer, Orella and I all stare at the two wondering off to the Cornucopia, our mouths a gape.

"The damn nerve," spits Orella and strides over to where we rose into the arena where the district three boy is already digging using a knife. I join her, and after a while so do the other two.

The work is hard and heavy, and thankfully we finally see Clove and Cato doing a bit of work. The two of them begin to pile up the supplies a little way from the Cornucopia in a sort of pyramid shape, and we keep digging up the bombs and carrying them over to them. I do most of the carrying, as I am used to it after the years of bringing in the flour for the bakery each morning. During my seventh or eighth trip, I lost count, I start to think of home. My father will be watching me, and he will be the only one who really understands why I've put myself in such a vulnerable position by joining with the murderous careers. Most people must be saying that the _Star Crossed Lovers _thing was all a rouse. A power play. But he'll know that this is the only way to guarantee her safety, because the careers are her only true threat. Except the Capitol... but I have no way of controlling the deaths bought at their hand.

I put my mind back to work. There's nothing worse than thinking of the possible ways she could die, it's more terrifying than my darkest nightmares.

After all the bombs have been dug up and new holes have been created around the pyramid of supplies we leave the district three boy to sort out the technical stuff. He's given a few slices of bread before he starts, and we all sit in the shade of the Cornucopia. The work has taken most of the day, and the sun will set in couple of hours so there is not much point of hunting when there is no signs of where the other tributes are. We eat in silence, but my mind is whirring with every possibility. Ever since we entered this arena my mind has been buzzing. How to keep her safe, how to get her out alive, how to sacrifice myself... Nothing has sprung to my mind yet, and I don't think it ever will. I'm not good at tactics, plans, forethought. Even though the girl who has added the meaningful spark to my existence depends on every single one of my actions, I can't think of how to keep her safe from here on out. I render myself a failure for that.

_A failure._

It's as if I have come so far to keep her safe but cannot go that one bit further to keep her alive for sure. My thoughts get deeper and more potent to my ever blurring mind.

"Stop day dreaming about the stupid girl and get some sleep." Glimmer says irritably. I don't know how long it's been dark for now, and I don't know how long I've been sat looking into the palms of my hands where the hemp bracelet Ben gave me sits, curled in on itself, already worn and looking dirty.

"I'm just going to get some water." I say and stand up, leaving Glimmer to guard the sleeping careers as I step carefully over the safe route the district three boy taught us. He sleeps a far distance from the rest of us, but remains inside the confines of the Cornucopia.

I get a water canteen and step back, then make the short walk down towards the lake. The moon is reflecting beautifully over the still water, and as I dip my canteen into it's clear depths the ripples distort the crescent.

I look around, and take in the scene. The trees all around the lake have the faint sound of animals whispering between them, the occasional hoot of an owl calling out. The smell of deep forest pine gratefully fills my nostrils and engulfs my senses deliciously. As the ripples I created ebb, and the clear moon and tiny, pin pricked stars reflect off the iridescent surface I decide, no matter how brutal and bloody my death here may be, I have died in a beautiful place.


	14. Chapter 13

Since I am a role player, my writing style has changed significantly since when I first wrote this fanfic.

So, I am going through each chapter and making minor alterations before re-uploading them, then once I'm done I will begin to continue the story and hopefully finish it by the end of summer.

I'm hoping I'm not being too ambitious, because I am really eager to get it done, but I am always tight on time and manage to forget about things like this along the way.

Feel free to send me angry messages telling me to get my shit together.

Love, your faithful fan fic author, Laura.

( malecporn - twitter)


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